Читать книгу The Pobratim - Jones P. - Страница 5

Once upon a time there lived in a village of Crivoscie an old man and his wife; they had one fair daughter and no more. This girl was beyond all doubt the prettiest maiden of the place. She was as beautiful as the rising sun, or the new moon, or as a Vila; so nothing more need be said about her good looks. All the young men of the village and of the neighbouring country were madly in love with her, though she never gave them the slightest encouragement.

Being now of a marriageable age, she was, of course, asked to every festivity. Still, being very demure, she would not go anywhere, as neither her father nor her mother, who were a sullen couple of stingy, covetous old fogeys, would accompany her.

At last her parents, fearing lest she might remain an old maid, and be a thorn rather than a comfort to them, insisted upon her being a little more sociable, and go out of an evening like the other girls. "Moreover, if some rich young man comes courting you, be civil to him," said the mother. "For there are still fools who will marry a girl for her pretty face," quoth the father. It was, therefore, decided that the very next time some neighbours gathered together to make merry, Jella should take part in the festivity. "For how was she ever to find the husband of her choice if she always remained shut up at home?" said the mother.

Soon afterwards, a feast in honour of some saint or other happened to be given at the house of one of their wealthy neighbours, so Jella decked herself out in her finest dress and went. She was really beautiful that evening, for she wore a gown of white wool, all embroidered in front with a wreath of gay flowers, then an over-dress of the same material, the sleeves of which were likewise richly stitched in silks of many colours. Her belt was of some costly Byzantine stuff, all purfled with gold threads. On her head she wore a red cap, the headgear of the young Crivosciane.

As she entered the room, all the young men flocked around her to invite her to dance the Kolo with them, and to whisper all kinds of pretty things to her. But she, blushing, refused them all, declaring that she would not dance, elbowed her way to a corner of the room, where she sat down quite alone. All the young men soon came buzzing around her, like moths round a candle, each one hoping to be fortunate enough to become her partner. Anyhow, when the music struck up, and the Kolo began, their toes were now itching, and one by one they slunk away, and she, to her great joy, and the still greater joy of the other girls, was left quite by herself.

While she was looking at the evolutions of the Kolo, she saw a young stranger enter the room. Although he wore the dress of the Kotor, he evidently was from some distant part of the country. His clothes—made out of the finest stuffs, richly braided and embroidered in gold—were trimmed with filigree buttons and bugles. The pas, or sash, he wore round his waist was of crimson silk, woven with gold threads; the wide morocco girdle—the pripasnjaca —was purfled with lovely arabesques; his princely weapons, studded with precious stones and damaskened, were numerous and costly. His pipe, stuck not in his girdle like his arms, but 'twixt his blue satin waistcoat—jacerma—and his shirt, had the hugest amber mouthpiece that man had ever seen; aye, the Czar himself could not possibly have a finer pipe. What young man, seeing that pipe with its silver mounting, adorned with coral and turquoises, could help breaking the Tenth Commandment? He was, moreover, as handsome as a Macic, aye, as winsome as Puck.

He came in the room, doffed his cap to greet the company like a well-bred young man, then set it pertly on his head again. After that, he went about chatting with the lads, flirting with the lassies, as if he had long been acquainted with them, like a youth accustomed to good company. He did not notice, however, poor Jella in her corner. He took no part in the dances, probably because, every Jack having found his Jill, there was nobody with whom he could dance.

The girls all looked slily at him, and many a one wished in her heart that she had not been so hasty in choosing her partner, nay, that she had remained a wallflower for that night.

At last the young stranger wended his steps towards that corner where Jella was sitting alone, moping. He no sooner caught sight of her than he went gracefully up, and, looking at her with a merry twinkle in his eyes, and a most mischievous smile upon his lips:

"And you, my pretty one? Don't you dance this evening?" he asked.

"I never dance, either this evening or any other."

"And why not?"

"Because there is not a single young man I care to dance with."

"Oh, Jella!" whispered the girls, "dance with him if he asks you; we should so much like to see how he dances."

"Then it would be useless asking you to dance the Kolo with me, I suppose?"

"Oh, Jella! dance with him," whispered the young men; "it would be an unheard-of rudeness to refuse dancing with a stranger who has no partner."

"Even if I did not care about dancing, I should do so for the sake of our village."

"Then you only dance with me that it might not be said: 'He was welcomed with the sour lees of wine'?"

"I dance with you because I choose to do so."

"Thank you, pretty one."

The two thereupon began to go through the maze of the Kolo, and, as he twisted her round, they both moved so gracefully, keeping time to the music, that they looked like feathery boughs swayed by the summer breeze.

About ten o'clock the dances came to an end, and every youth, having gone to thank his host for the pleasant evening he had passed, went off with his partner, laughing and chatting all the way.

"And you, my lovely one, where do you live?" asked the stranger of

Jella.

"In one of the very last houses of the village, quite at the end of the lane."

"Will you allow me to see you home?"

"If I am not taking you out of your way."

"Even if it were, it would be a pleasure for me."

Jella blushed, not knowing what to answer to so polite a youth.

They, therefore, went off together, and in no time they reached her house. Jella then bid the stranger good-bye, and, standing on the door-step, she saw him disappear in the darkness of the night.

Whither had he gone? Which turning had he taken? She did not know.

A feeling of deep sadness came over her; for the first time in her life she felt a sense of bereavement and loneliness.

Would this handsome young man come back again? She almost felt like running after the stranger to ask him if they would meet on the morrow, or, at least, after some days. Being a modest girl, she, of course, could not do so; moreover, the youth had already disappeared.

"Did you bring me any cakes?" was the mother's first question, peevish at being awakened in her first sleep.

"Oh, no! mati; I never ate a crumb of a cake myself."

"And you enjoyed yourself?"

"Oh! very much so; far more than I ever thought."

Thereupon she began to relate all that had happened, and would have made a long description of the young man who had danced with her, but her father woke in the midst of a tough snore and bade her hold her tongue.

On the morrow there was again a party in the village, for it was carnival, the time of the year when good folks make merry. When night came on, Jella went to the dance without needing to be much pressed by her parents. She was anxious to know if the young stranger would be there, and, also, if he would dance with her or with some other girl.

"Remember," said her mother to her as she was going off, "do not dance with him 'like a fly without a head'; but measure him from top to toe, and think how lucky it would be if he, being well off, would marry a dowerless girl like you. The whole village speaks of him, of his weapons and his pipe; still, he might be 'like a drop of water suspended on a leaf,' without house or home. Therefore, remember to question him as to his land, his castle, and so forth; try and find out if he is an only son and from where he comes, for 'Marry with your ears and not with your eyes,' as the saying is."

"Anyhow, take this tobacco-pouch," added the old man, "and offer it to him before he leaves you."

"Why?" asked Jella, guilelessly.

"Because it is made out of a musk-rat, and so it will be easy to follow him whithersoever he goes, even in the darkness of the night."

Jella, being a simple kind of a girl, did not like the idea of entrapping a young man; moreover, if she admired the stranger, it was for his good looks and his wit rather than for his rich clothes; but being frightened both of her father and her mother, who had never had a kind word for her, she promised to do as she was bidden. She then went to the party, and there everything happened as upon the preceding evening.

The girls all waited for the handsome young man to make his appearance, and put off accepting partners till the last moment, each one hoping that she might be the chosen one. The hour upon which he had come the evening before was now past, and still they all waited in vain. The music had begun, and the young men, impatient to be up and doing, were heavily beating time with their feet. At last the Kolo began. They had just taken their places, and all except Jella had forgotten the stranger, when he all at once stepped into the room, bringing with him a number of bottles of maraschino, and cakes overflowing with honey and stuffed with pistachios.

He, as upon the evening before, went round the room, talking with the young men and teazing the prettiest girls. Then he stepped up to Jella, and asked her to dance with him.

The Kolo at last came to an end, the boys went off with the girls, the old folks hobbled after them, and the unknown youth, putting his arm round his partner's waist, as if he had been engaged to her, accompanied her home.

They soon reached her house; Jella then gave the stranger the tobacco-pouch, and, having bid him good-night, she stood forlorn on the door-step, to see him go off. No sooner had he turned his back, than the father, who was holding the door ajar and listening to every word they said, slipped out, like a weasel, and followed him by the smell of his musk pouch.

The night was as still as it was dark, the moon had not yet risen, a hushed silence seemed to have fallen over nature, and not the slightest animal was heard stirring abroad.

The young fellow, after following the road for about a hundred paces, left the highway and took a short cut across the fields. The old man was astounded to see that, though a stranger, he was quite familiar with the country, for he knew not only what lane to take, but also what path to follow in the darkness of the night, almost better than he did himself. He climbed over walls, slipped through the gaps in the hedges, leapt over ditches, just as if it had been broad daylight.

Jella's father had a great ado to follow him; still, he managed to hobble along, like an ungainly, bow-legged setter, as fast as the other one capered. They crossed a wood, where the boles of the trees had weird and fantastic shapes, where thorny twigs clutched him by his clothes; then they came out on a plain covered with sharp flints, where huge scorpions lurked under every stone. Afterwards they reached a blasted heath, where nothing grew but gnarled, knotty, and twisted roots of trees, which, by the dusky light of the stars, looked like huge snakes and fantastical reptiles; there, in the clumps of rank grass, the horned vipers curled themselves. After this they crossed a morass, amidst the croaking of the toads and the hooting of owls, where unhallowed will-o'-the-wisps flitted around him.

The old man was now sorely frightened; the country they were crossing was quite unknown to him, and besides, it looked like a spot cursed by God, and leading to a worse place still. He began to lag. What was he to do?—go back?—he would only flounder in the mire. He crossed himself, shut his eyes tightly, and followed the smell of the musk. He thus walked on for some time, shivering with fear as he felt a flapping of wings near him, and ever and anon a draught of cold air made him lose the scent he was following.

At last he stopped, hearing a loud creaking sound, a grating stridulous noise, like that of the rusty hinges of some heavy iron gate which was being closed just behind him.

A gate in the midst of a morass! thought he; where the devil could he have come to? As he uttered the ominous word of Kudic he heard the earth groan under his feet.

It is a terrible thing to hear the earth groan; it does so just before an earthquake!

He did not dare to open his eyes; he listened, awed, and then the faint sound of a distant bell fell upon his ears.

It was midnight, and that bell seemed to be slowly tolling—aye, tolling for the dead, the dead that groan in the bosom of the earth.

A shiver came over him, big drops of cold sweat gathered on his forehead. He sniffed the cold night air; it smelt earthy and damp, the scent of musk had quite passed away.

At last he half-opened his eyes, to see if he could perceive anything of the young stranger. The moon, rising behind a hillock, looked like a weird eye peeping on a ghastly scene. What did he see—what were those uncouth shapes looming in the distance, amidst the surrounding mist?

Why was the earth newly dug at his feet, shedding a smell of clay and mildew?

He felt his head spinning, and everything about him seemed to whirl.

What was that dark object dangling down, as from a huge gallows?

Whither was he to go?—back across the wide morass, where the earth, soft and miry, sank under his feet, where the unhallowed lights lead the wanderers into bottomless quagmires?

He opened his eyes widely, and began to stare around. He saw strange shapes flit through the fog, figures darker than the fog itself rise, mist-like, from the earth. Were they night-birds or human beings? He could not tell.

All at once he bethought himself that they were witches and wizards, carovnitsi and viestitche, the morine or nightmares, and all the creatures of hell gathering together for their nightly frolic.

Fear prompted him to run off as fast as he possibly could, but huge pits were yawning all around him; moreover, curiosity held him back, for he would have liked to see where the damned store away their gold; so, between these two feelings, he stood there rooted to the earth.

At last, when fear prevailed over covetousness, he was about to flee; he felt the ground shiver under his feet, a grave slowly opened on the spot where he stood, for—as you surely must have understood—he was in the very midst of a burying-ground. At midnight in a burying-ground, when the tombs gape and give out their dead! His hair stood on end, his blood was curdling within his veins, his very heart stopped beating.

Can you fancy his terror in seeing a voukoudlak, a horrid vampire all bloated with the blood it nightly sucks. Slowly he saw them rise one after the other, each one looking like a drowsy man awaking from deep slumbers. Soon they began to shake off their sluggishness, and leap and jump and frolic around, and as the mist cleared he could see all the other uncouth figures whirl about in a mazy dance, like midges on a rainy day.

It was too late to run away now, for as soon as these blood-suckers saw him, they surrounded him, capering and yelling, twisting their boneless and leech-like bodies, grinning at him with delight, at the thought of the good cheer awaiting them, telling him that it was by no means a painful kind of death, and that afterwards he himself would become a vampire and have a jolly time of it.

At the sight of these dead-and-alive kind of ghosts, the poor man wished he had either a pentacle, a bit of consecrated candle, or even a medal of the Virgin; but he had nothing, he was at the mercy of the fiends; therefore, overpowered by fear, he fell down in a fainting-fit.

That night, and the whole of the following day, Jella and her mother waited for the old man to come back; but they waited in vain. When the evening came on, her mother persuaded her to go to the dancing-party and see if the young stranger would come again.

"Perhaps," said she, "he might tell you something about your father; if not, ask no questions. Anyhow, take this ball of thread, which I have spun myself, and on bidding him good-bye, manage to cast this loop on one of his buttons, drop the ball on the ground, and leave everything to me. Very likely your father has lost the scent of the musk, and is still wandering about the country. This thread, which is as strong as wire, is a much surer guide to go by."

Jella did as she was bid. She went to the house where the Kolo was being danced; she spent the whole evening with the young stranger, who never said a word about her father, and when the moment of parting on the threshold of the door arrived, she deftly fastened the end of the thread to one of his buttons, and then stood watching him go off.

The ball having slowly unwound itself, the old woman darted out and caught hold of the other end of the string. Then she followed the youth in the darkness, through thorns and thickets, through brambles and briars, as well as her tottering legs could carry her, much in the same way her husband had done the evening before.

That night and the day afterwards, Jella waited for her father and mother, but neither of them returned. When evening came on, afraid of remaining alone, she again went to dance the Kolo.

The evening passed very quickly, and the rustic ball came to an end. The youth accompanied her home as he had done the evening before, and on their way he whispered words of love in her ear, that made her heart beat faster, and her head grow quite giddy, words that made her forget her father and mother, and the dreaded night she was to pass quite alone. Still, as they got in sight of the house, Jella, who was very frightened, grew all at once quite thoughtful and gloomy. Seeing her so sorrowful, the young stranger put again his arm round her waist, and looking deep into her dark blue eyes, he asked her why she was so sad.

She thereupon told him the cause of all her troubles.

"Never mind, my darling," said the youth, "come along with me."

"But," faltered Jella, hesitatingly, "do you go far?"

"No, not so very far either."

"Still, where do you go?"

"Come and see, dear."

Jella did not exactly know what to do. She fain would go with him, and yet she was afraid of what people might say about her, and again she shuddered at the thought of having to remain at home quite alone.

"You are not afraid to come with me," he asked; "are you?"

"Afraid? No, why should I be? you surely would take care of me?"

"Of course; why do you not come, then?"

"Because the old women might say that it is improper."

"Oh," quoth he, laughing, "only old women who have daughters of their own to marry, say such things!"

Thereupon he offered her his arm, and off they went.

Soon leaving the village behind them, they were in the open fields, beyond the vineyards and the orchards, in the untilled land where the agaves shoot their gaunt stalks up towards the sky, where the air is redolent with the scent of thyme, sage and the flowering Agnus castus bushes; then again they went through leafy lanes of myrtle and pomegranate-trees and meadows where orchis bloomed and sparkling brooks were babbling in their pebbly beds.

Though they had been walking for hours, Jella did not feel in the least tired; it seemed as if she had been borne on the wings of the wind. Moreover, all sense of gloom and sadness was over, and she was as blithe and as merry as she had ever been.

At last—towards dawn—they reached a dense wood, where stately oaks and fine beech-trees formed fretted domes high up in the air. There nightingales warbled erotic songs, and the merle's throat burst with love; there the crickets chirped with such glee that you could hardly help feeling how pleasant life was. The moon on its wane cast a mellow, silvery light through the shivering leaves, whilst in the east the sky was of the pale saffron tint of early dawn.

"Stop!" said the young girl, laying her hand on the stranger's arm. "Do you not see there some beautiful ladies dancing under the trees, swinging on the long pendant branches and combing the pearly drops of dew from their black locks?"

"I see them quite well."

"They must be Vile?"

"I am sure they are."

"Fairies should not be seen by mortal eyes against their wish. Then do not let us seek their wrath."

"Do not be afraid, sweet child; we are no ordinary mortals, you and

I."

"You, perhaps, are not; but as for me, I am only a poor peasant girl."

"No, my love, you are much better than you think. Look there! the fairies have seen you, and they are beckoning you to go to them."

"But, then, tell me first what I am."

"You are a foundling; the old man and woman with whom you lived were not your parents. They stole you when you were an infant for your beauty and the rich clothes you wore."

"And you, who are you, gospod?"

"I?" said the young man, laughing. "I am Macic, the merry, the mischievous sprite. I have known you since a long time. I loved you from the first moment I saw you, and I always hoped that, 'as like matches with like,' you yourself might perhaps some day get to like me and marry me. Tell me, was I right?" said he, looking at her mischievously.

Jella told him he was a saucy fellow to speak so lightly about such a grave subject, but then—woman-like—she added that he was not wrong.

They were forthwith welcomed by the Vile with much glee, and, soon afterwards, their wedding was celebrated with great pomp and merriment.

"But what became of the old man and his wife?" asked an interested listener.

"They met with the punishment their curiosity deserved. They were found a long time afterwards locked up in an old disused burying-ground. They were both of them quite dead, for when they fainted at the terrible sights they saw, the vampires availed themselves of their helplessness to suck up the little blood there was in them."

"May St. John preserve us all from such a fate," said Milos Bellacic, crossing himself devoutly.

The story having come to an end, toasts were drunk, songs were sung to the accompaniment of the guzla, the young people flirted, their elders talked gravely about politics and the crops, whilst the women huddled together in a corner and chatted about household matters.

After a while, an old ladle having been brought out, lead was melted and then thrown into a bucket of water, and the fanciful arborescent silvery mass it formed was used as a means of divination.

Most of the girls were clever in reading those molten hieroglyphics, but none was so versed in occult lore as an old woman, an aunt of the Starescina's, who was also skilled in the art of curing with simples.

Uros and Milenko, therefore, begged the good old woman to foretell them their future; and she, looking at the glittering maze, said to them:

"See here, these two are the paths of your life; see how smoothly they run, how they meet with the same incidents. These little needles that rise almost at marked distances are the milestones of the road; each one is a year. Count them, and you will see that for a length of time nothing ruffles the course of your life. But here a catastrophe, then both paths branch out in different directions; your lives from then have separate ends." The two young men heaved a deep sigh.

"Anyhow, you have several years of happiness in store for you. Make good use of your time while it is yours, for time is fleeting."

Then, as she was rather given to speak in proverbs, she said to Uros:

"Let your friend be to you even as a brother. Remember that one day, not very far off either, you will owe your life to him."

Drinking and carousing, singing and chatting, the evening came to an end. In the early hours the guests took leave of their host, wishing him a long and happy life, firing their pistols, not only as a compliment to him, but also as a means of scaring away the evil spirits. Upon reaching their houses, they bathed and washed with dew, they rubbed themselves with virgin oil, so as to be strong and healthy, besides being proof against witchcraft, for a whole year.