Music
[Transcriber's Note: You can play this music (MIDI file) by clickinghere.]A
Cserebogár sarga cserebogárNem Kérdem én töled mi Korlesz nyárAst sem Kérdem sokáig élek e?Csak azt mond meg rozsámé leszek e?"Little Cockchafer, golden fellow,I ask thee not when comes the summer time,Nor do I ask how long shall life be mine.I ask thee but to tell meWhen I my love's shall be."
The boy's voice was sweet and true, and he sang the little song prettily, but so mournfully that tears streamed down the broad, red face of the peasant woman.
"Why do you sing to break one's heart?" she demanded, and Banda Bela answered:
"I sang it but as my mother sang when she was here."
"She is dead, then?"
"She and my father, my brothers and sisters. I have no one left." The boy's face clouded.
"Me you have," said Marushka, with a funny little pout.
"I must go to my herd now," said the shepherd. "Come back to-night and we shall give you your supper for another song."
They reached the shepherd's hut that evening to find his wife awaiting him, but he did not come. He was far away with his herd. As it grew dark his wife gave the children bread and milk and bade them hurry to bed.
"It is late for little children like you,"she said. "To-morrow we will see you again. To-day I asked about you at the camp and got but black looks in answer."
Banda Bela hurried Marushka away, fearing a scolding, for he had not meant to stay away all day, but when he reached the camp it was dark and still. The fire was nearly out under the fire-pot, the tent flaps were closed. He dared not waken any one, but Dushka, an old Gypsy woman with an evil face, looked out from her tent.
"Oh, it is you, is it?" she said. "Well, there is no food left, but drink this and you will sleep," and she gave each of the children a mug of dark liquid. It tasted bitter but they drank obediently. Then the old woman took Marushka into her tent while Banda Bela threw himself down under a poplar tree near the fire embers, and was soon fast asleep.
FOOTNOTE:[5]A famous Hungarian patriot.
[5]A famous Hungarian patriot.
[5]A famous Hungarian patriot.
DESERTED
Banda Belaslept heavily through the night. He dreamed in a confused way that he heard the Gypsies talking and one of them said, "She brings ill luck. Men ask of her white locks. The boy is well enough, though one more to feed. But the other brings ill fortune to the band." Another said, "No ill will come to them." Then he dreamed no more, but slept a dead and heavy sleep. He was awakened by a hand upon his shoulder. Some one shook him and he started to his feet to see the shepherd bending over him.
"What is it?" asked Banda Bela.
"Where is your camp and where is the little girl?" demanded the shepherd.
Banda Bela looked around him in amazement. Of the Gypsy camp there was not a trace left, save that dead embers lay where once the fire-pot had been. Tents, carts, horses, Gypsies,—all had vanished from the face of the earth as completely as if they had never been there.
"They have gone and left me!" cried Banda Bela. "Marushka! Where is Marushka?"
"Banda Bela!" called a faint voice behind him, and he turned quickly to see the little girl sitting under a great poplar tree, rubbing her eyes stupidly. He ran to her and the shepherd caught her in his arms.
"What happened in the tent last night?" asked Banda Bela.
"Rosa took me on her lap and cried," said Marushka, "then I went to sleep; but why am I here and where is Rosa?"
"During the night my wife awoke andheard faint sounds of stirring about outside the tent and muffled horses' hoofs. One of the horse herd is missing, many things are taken from the cook hut, and the Gypsies are gone. I do not know why we did not hear them more plainly when they passed," said the shepherd.
"They always tie up their horses' feet in rags when they travel at night," said Banda Bela. "Now they may be many miles from here. No one knows where, for they always cover their tracks. Don't cry, Marushka, I'll take care of you."
"You are but a child yourself," said the shepherd. "Come to my hut and eat and then we shall see what is to be done."
Marushka dried her tears and followed Banda Bela. In silence the two children ate the bread and milk the shepherd's wife prepared for them. Then Banda Bela said:
"Stay here, Marushka. I am going to the cross-roads to see if they have left a sign for us, but I do not think it at all likely."
"What sign would they leave?" asked the shepherd.
"When they go and wish their friends to follow they leave at each cross-road a twig pointing in the direction they have gone. For fear one would think it but a stray twig they cross it with another, and the Gypsy always watches for the crossed branches when following a trail."
"You may look, but you will find no crossed branches at the cross-roads," said the peasant, as Banda Bela ran off. The peasant and his wife talked together in low tones. Soon the boy came back and shook his head mournfully.
"They have left no trail," he said. "They left us behind on purpose."
"The draught they gave you was drugged," said the shepherd. "Tell me, Banda Bela, what will you do?"
"I must take Marushka and go to the city," said the boy. "By walking slowly and often carrying her we can do it. In the city I can play in the streets and earn bread for both."
"But do you like the city? It is noisy and dirty. You will not be free as on the wild," said the peasant's wife.
"I shall like it not at all," said the boy. "But there is nothing else."
"If Marushka will come and live with me I will care for her as my child," said the shepherd's wife. "She shall have clean clothes and plenty to eat and a garden with flowers. Will you come, little one?"
Marushka looked up into the kind face and smiled. "I will come if Banda Belamay come also," she said. The shepherd laughed.
"I told you, Irma, it was useless to take the one without the other. Take both. Banda Bela will serve you well, of that I am sure."
"That I will," said the boy heartily. "Only take care of Marushka and sometimes let me play my music and I will do all that you tell me."
"In this world one can but try," said the shepherd's wife, "then see if good or evil come. I have not the heart to leave these two waifs to starve on this great plain. Come, Emeric, the horses! It will be night before I reach home and there will be much to do."
Almost before the children knew it they found themselves seated beside the shepherd's wife as the cart was whirled along in the opposite direction from which they had come.
They passed country carts made of a huge pine beam with a pair of small wheels at either end. Gay parties of peasants were seated on the pole, the feet braced against a smaller pole.
"What queer-looking people," said Marushka.
"They are not Magyars," said Banda Bela.
"How did you know that?" asked Aszszony Semeyer.
"My father told me many things of Hungary as we travelled together," said the boy. "He told me all the history of how the country first belonged to the Magyars. I remember it almost in the very words he told me."
"What did he say?" demanded Aszszony Semeyer.
"'Many hundreds of years ago the Hungarian people,' he said," began Banda Bela,"'were shepherds who tended their flocks upon the plains of Scythia. The story is that Nimrod, son of Japhet and Enet, his wife, went into the land of Havila, where Enet had two sons, Hunyar and Magyar. These grew up to be strong and to love the chase. One day, as they hunted, they heard sounds of music. These they followed, and came to the hut of the 'Children of the Bush,' where there were two daughters of the king, singing beautifully.
"'Hunyar and Magyar married these two sisters, and their lands were not enough. Westward they moved, from the children of Hunyar coming the Huns, from Magyar's children, the Magyars.
"'They conquered many peoples, but left to each its customs. All were ruled under one chief. So that is why we have so many different peoples to-day.'"
"You know more than I do, Banda Bela," said Aszszony Semeyer.
"My father used to tell me many stories and legends, but I never remembered them very well."
"Marushka, you will be very tired before you reach the village. Curl up on the seat and perhaps you can take a nap."
"Yes, Aszszony," Marushka said obediently, and she and Banda were very quiet.
It was a long drive, but at last the cart rattled down the street of a large village and drew up in front of a white house. Marushka was already asleep and had to be carried into the house. Banda Bela stumbled along after the shepherd's wife and, though with his eyes half shut, obediently ate the bread and milk she put before him. Then he found himself on the kitchen floor before a huge tub of water, with a cake of soap and a large towel.
"Strip! Scrub!" commanded Aszszony Semeyer. "Scrub till you are clean from head to foot, then dry yourself, and I will bring you some clothes. You will never see these again." She picked up a brass tongs from the huge fireplace and with them carried the boy's rags out of the room, her nose fairly curling at the corners with disgust.
Banda Bela did his best. The water was cold, for Hungarians enjoy cold baths, and at the first plunge his teeth chattered. But after a while he rather enjoyed it and scrubbed himself till his dark skin glowed freshly, in spots, it is true, yet he thought it quite wonderful. Not so Aszszony Semeyer. She entered the kitchen, red and flushed with her labours in scouring Marushka.
"You are not clean, no! I will show you—" and she caught up a scrubbingbrush. Banda Bela gasped. He would not cry. He was too big a boy for that, but he felt as if he were being ironed with a red-hot iron. Arms, legs, and back,—all were attacked so fiercely that he wondered if there would be any skin left. Half an hour she worked, then wiped him dry and said:
"Now you look like a tame Christian! You are not really clean, it will take many scrubbings to make you that—and more to keep you so—but the worst is done." She cut his wild locks close to his head and surveyed her work proudly.
"Not such a bad-looking boy," she said to herself. "Now for a night shirt and bed." She threw over his head an old cotton shirt and led him up to the attic. "Sleep here," she said, pointing to a clean little bed in one corner. "Rest well and to-morrow we shall see what we can do."
"Where is Marushka?" asked Banda Bela.
"Asleep long ago. You shall see her in the morning," and the boy slept.
The sun woke him early and he lay for a few moments looking about the little room. It was high under the eaves, from which hung long strings of bright red peppers, drying for the winter's use. The morning sun glanced on them and turned them to tongues of fire. From the little window Banda Bela saw down the village street, across the green fields where sparkled rippling brooks, away to the hills. His heart gave a great leap. He had not slept in a room before in all his life. He felt stifled. There was his home, the free, gladföld, he would fly away while yet he could! He sprang from his bed, but where were his rags? Beside his bed was a clean white suit, whole and neat, though patchedand mended, and as he paused he heard a voice cry out from below:
"Where is my Banda Bela? I cannot eat myreggeli[6]without Banda Bela."
"I must stay with Marushka," he said to himself, and with a sigh he hurriedly put on the white suit, and ran downstairs. Aszszony Semeyer was in the kitchen.
"Good morning," she said. "One would not know you for the same boy. Marushka is in the garden feeding the geese. Run you and help her," and she pointed to the back of the house, where a little garden was gay with flowers, herbs, and shrubs.
Banda Bela went to find his little charge, but saw only four or five geese and a little peasant girl throwing them handfuls of corn. She was a cute little thing, dressed in a blue skirt, a white waist, and an apron with gaily embroidered stripes. One plaitof fair hair hung down her back, while another plait was coiled around her head, pressed low on her brow like a coronet. The child's back was turned toward Banda Bela, and he was about to ask her if she had seen Marushka, when she turned and saw him, and then ran to him, crying,
"Oh, Banda Bela! How nice you look! At first I did not know you, but your eyes are always the same! Haven't I a pretty dress? The shepherd's wife gave it to me. It belonged to her little girl who is dead! Is she not good to us, Banda Bela?"
The boy's sense of gratitude was lively, but the memory of the fearful scrubbing he had received was equally strong within him, and he said:
"She is very good, yes—but, Marushka, did she scrub you last night?"
"Oh, yes, very hard, but I like the feel of myself this morning. Don't I look nice?"
"I should never have known you, and you certainly look nice. I hope you will be happy here."
"Oh, I am very happy," she said, brightly. "Of course I could not be if you were not here, but if you stay with me I shall like it very much. You will stay always, won't you?"
Banda Bela looked across the tiny little garden to the sweep of blue hills beyond the town. They glistened with dew in the morning sun. How fair they looked! But the child's sweet eyes were upon him wistfully and he could not resist their pleading, though theföldand air and sky all called to him and claimed him as their own. He knew how hard it would be for aGletecoreto resist the call of the wander spirit, but to Marushka he said:
"I shall stay with you as long as you need me," and Marushka smiled happily.
"I shall always need you," she said. "So always I shall have you. Now come and see the geese," and she led him to see the white-feathered creatures with whom she had already made friends. There were two big black hairy pigs beside, and from their pen these grunted cheerfully at the children as Aszszony Semeyer called them in to breakfast.
FOOTNOTE:[6]Breakfast.
[6]Breakfast.
[6]Breakfast.
THE FAIR OF HAROM-SZÖLÖHOZ
Thevillage of Harom-Szölöhoz lies on the edge of the plain, where the rolling lands sweep toward the hills and those in turn to the mountains.
Many of the men of the village were sheep or cattle herders, as Emeric Semeyer, living with their herds and seldom returning home save for high days and holidays. Others dwelt in the villages and worked in the grain fields, while still others worked in the salt mines each year for some months at least, for the salt mines of Hungary are famous the world over, and employ many labourers.
It was a pleasant little village. In thecentre was an open space around which was clustered the church, with the town house and the larger houses. All the cottages were white-washed, and had gray-shingled roofs. Some of them had gay little flower gardens and a few had trees planted by the doorway. Their shade is not needed, for though the sun is hot, there is always theszöhördoto sit in. This is a seat placed under the eaves which always overhang at one side of the roof. Here often the firewood is stacked and one log serves as a seat upon which the old people may sit and gossip, protected alike from sun and rain.
Upon the doorway of Aszszony Semeyer's house were carved some tulips, a pattern much used in Hungary. In the porch of the house driedkukurutand paprika hung in long ribbons to dry. The front door opened into the kitchen where the soup potsimmered upon the huge brick stove. Many of the cottages in this part of Hungary have but one room, but Aszszony Semeyer was rich and she had two rooms and a loft above. She kept the house wonderfully clean, yet she always seemed to have plenty of time to sit at the window and embroidervarrotas. Thevarrotasare Hungarian embroideries worked with red and black and blue threads upon linen cloth the colour of pale ochre. The thread and linen is woven by the women, and in nearly every cottage in the village some one may be seen seated at the window spinning, weaving, or embroidering.
Aszszony Semeyer's father had been one of theberes[7]employed by theTablabiro,[8]and he had been able to leave his daughter, for he had no sons, a cottage and some money, so that she was better off than manyof the village people. This did not keep her from working hard, for all Magyars are industrious and hard working. She did not intend that any one under her care should be idle; and Banda Bela found that he and Marushka must work if they were to eat.
Women washing laundry in the riverWASHING IN THE RIVER
"Now then, my sugars," she said to them, "we shall see what there is for you to do! Some work there must be for one and the other. But a square pane will not fit a round window, so we must give you something that you can do out of doors. You, Banda Bela, shall go to help the swine-herd, and Marushka shall be goose girl."
"Oh, I should like that!" cried Marushka. "I think the geese are so funny and I like to see them eat."
"You shall learn to embroider, and, as you sit on the meadow watching the geese, you can place many stitches. When youmarry you will have whole chests full of embroideries, like any well brought up maiden. Otherwise you will be shamed before your husband's people.
"Banda Bela, you shall go with the swine-herd. That will keep you out of doors, and you will like that, I am sure."
"I will try," said Banda Bela. "But I have never worked."
"Quite time you learned, then," said the good woman. "We will start in the morning. To-day you and Marushka may go about the village and make yourselves at home. You will find much to interest you. Come back when the big bell of the church rings. That will be dinner time."
"Oh, Banda Bela, see those people jumping up and down in the river!" said Marushka. "What are they doing?"
"Washing, I think," said Banda Bela."See, they take a dress or an apron and put it in the stream and tread on it, stamping it against the stones until the dirt all comes out, then they rinse it out and put it in their wooden trays and take another piece and wash it."
"I thought the wooden trays were cradles for babies," said Marushka. "The Gypsies use them for that."
"Yes, but I have seen them used for many things," said Banda Bela. "The peasants carry goods to market in them; in the city the baker boys use them to carry bread, washwomen use them, and cooks use them to cut up meat forgoulashor to choppaprikain."
"Banda Bela, we're coming to such a crowded place,—what are all those people doing?" asked Marushka, pointing to a street which was crowded to overflowing with peasants, their white costumes andgay aprons and jackets flashing about like bright birds in the sunlight.
"It must be a market day," said the boy. "I have often seen the village markets when I was travelling with my father. It might be fair time, and that is great fun! Let us go and see, Marushka. They have lots of pretty things in the stalls."
The two children ran down the street, which was filled with carts, covered with gay-coloured cloths, the horses having been taken out and stabled elsewhere.
Stalls had been built up and down the sides of the street and these were filled with fruit, melons, embroidery, clothes, and wonderful crockery. Plates and jugs in gay colours and artistic designs have been made by the peasants in this part of Hungary for hundreds of years, and in the cottages one can see, hung along the walls under the rafters, jugs, cups, and platters of greatbeauty. No peasant would part with his family china, as he would feel disgraced unless he could display it up on his walls.
Ox carts lumbered down the streets, the huge horns of the oxen frightening Marushka. Boys with huge hats, loose white shirts, and trousers above the ankles, bare-footed girls and girls in top boots, men and women, geese, pigs, horses, and cows, all crowded into the square, where were the church with its white spire and golden cross, the magistrate's house, and the inn named "Harom Szölöhoz" as its three bunches of grapes above the door showed.
"Banda Bela," said Marushka, "what are those women sitting behind those red and yellow pots for? They look so funny with the great flat hats on their heads."
"They are cooking," said Banda Bela. "I have seen these village fairs when Iused to travel with my father. In the bottom of those pots is burning charcoal upon which a dish is set. In the dish they cook all kinds of things, frying meat in bacon fat, makinggoulashand anything else a customer may want."
"Isn't that funny!" said Marushka, whose idea of cookery was the Gypsy fire-pot over a fire of sticks. "What lovely frocks the girls wear! I like those boots with the bright red tops, too,—I wish I had some," and she looked down discontentedly at her ten little bare toes. Banda Bela laughed at her.
"You're a funny little bit of a Marushka," he said. "Yesterday you hadn't a frock to your name, only a little rag of a shirt, and you were all dirty and your hair had never been combed. Now you have a pretty dress and an embroidered apron, and hair like a high-born princess, yet youare not satisfied, but must have top boots! They would pinch and hurt your feet terribly and cramp your toes so that you couldn't wiggle them at all. After you had worn boots awhile your toes would get so stiff that you couldn't use them as fingers as we do. People who always wear boots cannot even pick up anything with their toes. If they want a stick or anything that has fallen to the ground they have to bend the back and stoop to pick it up with the fingers."
Marushka looked thoughtful for a moment, her little toes curling and wriggling as she dug them into the sand, then she said:
"But the boots are so pretty, Banda Bela, I would like them!" The boy laughed.
"You will have to have them someway, little sister," he said. "And one of thosebright little jackets, too, since you so much like to be dressed up like a fine bird."
"Why do some of the women wear jackets and some not, and some of them such queer things on their heads?" asked Marushka.
"This fair brings people from all around and there are many kinds of people in Hungary," he said. "Those tall straight men with faces all shaved except for the waxed moustache are Magyars, while the fair-haired fellows who look as if they didn't care about their clothes and slouch around are called Slövaks. The girls who wear those long, embroidered, white robes, sandals on their feet and black kerchiefs on their heads, are Roumanians. The Magyar girls wear gold-embroidered aprons, big white sleeves and zouave jackets, and the boots you like so much."
"I am a Magyar," said Marushka, tossingher head proudly. "All but the boots."
"High-born Princess, boots you shall have," laughed Banda Bela. "But how?" He knit his brows, as they stopped at a stall where boots were displayed for sale. "I know!" he cried, while Marushka looked longingly at the boots. "I shall play for them."
His violin was under his arm, and he raised it to his chin, tuned it softly, and quickly began a little tune. Hungarians love music and it was but a moment before a crowd gathered around. He played a gay little song, "Nezz roysám a szemembe," one of the old Magyar love songs in which a lover implores his sweetheart to look into his eyes and read there that for him she shines like a star in the blue of heaven, and when he had finished everyone cried for more. This time he whisked into adance tune and feet patted in time to the music and faces were fairly wreathed in smiles. When he stopped with a gay flourish, everybody cried, "More, boy, more!" and Banda Bela smiled happily as one in the crowd tossed him akrajczar.[9]He took off his cap and passed it around among the crowd. Many akrajczarfell into it and one silver piece came from a Magyar officer, a tall fine-looking man with a sad face, who stood on the edge of the crowd.
"Who are you, boy, and why do you play? Do you need money?" asked the officer.
"Not for myself, Your Gracious Highness, but the little one wishes red-topped boots and also a jacket," said the boy simply.
"These of course she must have," said the officer, with a smile which lighted uphis sad face. "Where is this little sister of yours? At home with her mother?"
"No, Most High-Born Baron," said Banda Bela. "The mother I have not, but Aszszony Semeyer is very kind to us, and Marushka is here with me. That little maid by the cooking stall."
"She is a fair little maid, of course she must have her boots," said the officer. "But you have earned them, for your music is like wine to empty hearts. What is your name, boy, and where do you live?"
"My name is Banda Bela, Most Gracious Baron. I live since yesterday at the house of Emeric Semeyer. My father was Gergeley Banda, the musician, now dead."
"I have often seen and heard your father in Buda-Pest," said the officer kindly, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You will play as well as he did if you keep on."
Banda Bela's eyes shone.
"That would please me more than anything else in all the world," he said. "I think now I have enough for Marushka's boots, so I need not play more, save one thing for the pleasure of those who have paid me. I will play a song of my fathers," and he played a gentle little melody, with a sad, haunting strain running through it, which brought tears to the eyes.
"Boy, you are a genius! What is that?" asked the baron when he had finished.
"It is called the 'Lost One,'" said Banda Bela. "The little song running through it is of a child who has been lost from home. The words are:
"The hills are so blue,The sun so warm,The wind of the moor so soft and so kind!Oh, the eyes of my mother,The warmth of her breast,The breath of her kiss on my cheek, alas!"
The officer put a whole silver dollar in the boy's hand and turned away without a word, and Banda Bela wondered as he saw tears in the stern eyes.
Then Marushka got her boots and her jacket and Banda Bela bought some new strings for his violin, and a little box of sugar jelly which he took to Aszszony Semeyer, and to her also he gave the store ofkrajczarleft after his purchases had been made.
FOOTNOTES:[7]Labourers employed by the year.[8]Lord of the estate.[9]Small coin.
[7]Labourers employed by the year.
[7]Labourers employed by the year.
[8]Lord of the estate.
[8]Lord of the estate.
[9]Small coin.
[9]Small coin.
VILLAGE LIFE
Banda Belafound life with the pigs rather quiet in spite of the noise his four-footed friends made, but he soon learned to know all the pigs by name and to like them, dirty as they were, but he never grew fond of them as Marushka did of the village geese. These followed her like a great white army, as she led them beside the river. They seemed to understand every word she said and would squawk in answer to her call, and come with flapping wings across the field, whenever she spoke to them.
So, too, would the storks who nested in the eaves of the houses, and it was a funnysight to see the long-legged, top-heavy birds stalking around after Marushka, until she gave them bits of her black bread, when they would spread their great wings and fly off contentedly to their nestlings in the eaves.
Marushka's hours at home were quite as busy as those she spent with the geese, for Aszszony Semeyer was a noted housekeeper and did not intend that any little girl under her care should grow up without learning to do housework. Marushka learned to embroider, to sew, to mend, to clean the floors and to cook. She was an apt pupil and it was not long before she could cook eventuroscsuszaas well as her teacher.Turoscsuszais not easy to make. First one mixes a paste of rye and barley meal, stirred up with salt and water. This is rolled out thin and cut into little squares which are dropped quickly into boilingwater, then taken out, drained and put into a hot frying pan, with some curds and fried bacon, and cooked over a hot fire. It takes practice to know just how long it must be cooked to make it to perfection, and Marushka felt very much encouraged when Aszszony Semeyer said to her at last:
"You can make it just as well as I can, child." The little girl knew that no higher compliment could be paid her.
At Christmas time she learned to make the hazel-nut cakes which are so deliciously good, and she and Banda Bela enjoyed the Christmas tree, the first they had ever seen, and which is found in every peasant household in Hungary. In the poorer cottages it is often but a little fir branch decorated with bits of coloured tissue paper and a few candles, but Aszszony Semeyer had a large tree, with all sorts of decorations and presents for the children, who got upat five o'clock to see them, though Marushka was very sleepy, for she had stayed up for the midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. Banda Bela had first helped Aszszony Semeyer "strew the straw," one of the quaint Christmas customs in this part of Hungary, where the peasants strew fresh straw upon the floor and sit upon it to insure their hens laying plenty of eggs during the coming year. He also made up the "plenty brush," taking an onion for Aszszony Semeyer, Marushka, and himself, with little bundles of hay and barley ears tied with scarlet ribbon and laid upon the table. This will be sure to bring plenty of onions, hay, and barley to the house during the year.
In order to keep off fire Banda Bela and Marushka had each taken some beans on a plate and raced all around theszvoba,[10]touching the wall with the plate, and they had given the pigs and the geese bits of salt to bring them good luck.
Thus the winter passed busily and pleasantly for the two children. They lived on simple but hearty fare. For breakfast there wasczibere, made by steeping black bread in water for three weeks until it soured, and making this into soup by adding beaten eggs and sheep's milk. For dinner they had oftengoulashorturoscsuszawith vegetables or bread.
Marushka learned also to boil soap, to make candles, dry prunes, and smoke sausages. She helped to cure the hams, crying bitterly over the death of Banda Bela's little piggies. She churned and made cheese, much of which was stored up for winter use, as were also many of the vegetables from the little garden, which Banda Bela weeded and cared for.
Both children helped to make theslivovitza, or plum brandy, of which every Hungarian household must have some, and which is very good to drink.
Right after Easter the children were invited to a wedding, and as Banda Bela was to play for theczardas, Marushka was delighted.
One of the neighbours, just at the end of the village, had severalélado leanyök,[11]called this because in Hungary a bridegroom must pay his father-in-law a good price if he wishes a wife. Sometimes a peasant pays only twenty florins for his wife, but sometimes he has to pay as much as two hundred florins.
The day before Irma's marriage, Lajos, the best man, came to the door of Aszszony Semeyer's cottage. Bowing and taking off his hat, he said:
"Most humbly do I beg your pardon for my intrusion under your roof, but I am deputed to politely invite you and your family to partake of a morsel of food and drink a glass of wine, and to dance a measure thereafter on the occasion of the wedding feast of the seed that has grown up under their wings. Please bring with you knives, forks, and plates."
Aszszony Semeyer accepted the invitation, and as Sömögyi Irma was a Slövak girl, the marriage ceremonies were very different from those which a Magyar maiden would have had.
The Slövak wedding is all arranged for by the best man. Of course the young people have been lovers for some time and have plighted their troth through the window on a moonlight night, but no one is supposed to know about that. The lover and his friend, who is called thestaro sta,on a Saturday night go to the door of the lady's cottage and say:
"Good friends, we have lost our way. In the king's behalf we seek a star." At this the girl hastily leaves the room and thestaro staexclaims:
"Behold! There is the star for which we seek. May we go and seek her? We have flowers with us to deck her, flowers fair as those which Adam bound upon the brow of Eve in the Garden."
"I will call her back," says the bride's father, and the girl returns to smilingly accept thestaro sta'sflowers, and his offer of marriage for his friend. The flowers are distributed, speeches are made, and everybody drinks the health of the betrothed pair inslivovitza, binding their hands together with a handkerchief.
The night before the wedding there is a cake dance, when theczardasis danced, thewedding cake is displayed, and everybody cries, laughs, and puts a bit of money into a plate to help toward the wedding expenses, for the wedding feast must last two days, and it costs a great deal of money.
Irma's feast was very fine, for her father was village magistrate and could afford to make her marriage quite a social event. Even the High-Born Baron and Baroness from the great house came, and Marushka was delighted to see them, for she had heard the little peasant girls tell how kind the Baron was, and how beautiful his wife.
The High-Born Baron danced theczardaswith the bride and the High-Born Baroness trod the measures with the bridegroom, and Marushka could hardly keep her eyes off the Baroness. Her eyes were soft and brown, her teeth white as little pearls, her complexion a soft olive with rose-hued cheeks, her hair blue-black, soft and fine,waving about her face and piled high with roses at each side above her ears. Her dress was of brocaded silk, the bodice trimmed with pearls, the large sleeves filmy with laces almost as fine as those she might have worn to court. Hungarian women love fine clothes and dress beautifully and the High-Born Baroness wished to pay honor to Sömögyi Vazul, for he had served the Baron's house and his father's before him.
The Baron wore his handsomest uniform, top boots, embroidered coat and magnificent cloak, trimmed in gold braid and buttons, and it was a proud moment in Irma's life when he put his hand upon her elbow and led her out to dance the quaint dance of the Hungarians, with its slow movement gradually growing faster and faster until it ends in a regular whirl.
Banda Bela played his best and theczardasof Irma's wedding was long talkedof in the village as the most beautiful which had ever been danced. Then the High-Born Baron spoke to his wife and she smiled and nodded her head and asked Banda Bela if he could play the accompaniment to any of the folk-songs.
"Yes, Your Graciousness," he answered, "to any one of them."
"Then I will sing for you," said the Baroness, and a rustle of expectancy went round the'szvoba, for it was well known in the village that the High-Born Graciousness was a famous singer and had often been asked to sing to the King. She sang the little folk-song which every Hungarian knows.
"How late the summer stars arise!My love for thee was late in rising too.But what of that, or aught, to me?Why is thy glance so icy cold?My heart burns hot with love for thee!"
Her voice was tender and sad like thatof all the Magyar women, and Marushka thought she had never heard anything so beautiful as the song to which Banda Bela's notes added a perfect accompaniment.
Then the wedding cakes were passed about, and the little girl had her full share. Banda Bela rejoiced in the present of a silver piece from the Baron.
"Who is this child?" demanded the Baroness, attracted by Marushka's fair hair amidst the dark-haired little Magyars and Slövaks.
"A little one adopted by Aszszony Semeyer," replied the magistrate, "as is also the Gypsy boy who played for you."
"She does not look like a Gypsy child," said the Baroness, knitting her brows a little. "She reminds me of some one I have seen—" as Marushka smiled up at her and made her a quaint little peasant's courtesy with more than peasant's grace.