The landlord’s wife came up to them in a friendly manner and put a vase of fresh flowers on the table.
“You can feast your eyes on these till the soup comes!” she said with a smile. “And if I might make so bold as to ask – are you not a young couple on your way to the town to get married?”
Vrenchen blushed and was too embarrassed to raise her eyes. Sali kept silent too, and the woman continued:
“Well, you’re both still young! Youthful wed eats happy bread, as the saying goes; and you are an attractive and honest-looking pair, so you need not be ashamed. A decent couple can make a success of life if they start young, and work hard, and are faithful to each other – and that you must certainly be, for you have many years before you. If you husband them well, they can be happy years. But don’t mind me, young people. It’s just that I was so pleased to see such a handsome couple.”
The maidservant brought the soup, and as she had overheard part of the conversation and had always hoped to get married herself, she looked jealously at Vrenchen, envious of the happiness that seemed to be in store for her. Back in the serving room she gave vent to her ill temper.
“They are another of those vagabond couples without a penny to their name,” she said to the landlord’s wife in a voice loud enough for all to hear; “they have no friends, no dowry, nothing but the prospect of poverty and beggary, yet they rush into the town to celebrate their wedding! Where shall we be if young things like that get married, when they can’t even tie their own apron strings or make a proper soup? I’m really sorry for the boy – he’s come to a pretty pass with his young Dulcinea!”
“Hold your tongue, you spiteful hussy!” hissed the wife. “I am not going to see any harm come to them. They seem a perfectly decent couple from the hills – they’re probably mill-hands. Their clothes are shabby but clean, and as long as they love each other and work hard, they will go further than you with your malicious gossip. If you can’t control your tongue, nobody is likely to propose to you – you surly creature!”
Thus Vrenchen experienced all that befalls a bride going to her wedding: the sympathy of an understanding woman; the jealousy of an old maid who both praises and pities the bridegroom out of personal spite, because she herself dearly wants to marry; and a delicious repast at the side of the bridegroom himself. Her cheeks bore the flush of a red carnation and her heart was thumping, but she ate and drank with enthusiasm and continued to be polite to the maidservant, though she could not resist casting affectionate glances at Sali and whispering to him, which only made the poor youth more embarrassed.
For a long time they sat there happily, as though reluctant to break the blissful spell. The innkeeper’s wife brought them some pastries for dessert, and Sali ordered a stronger wine to go with them, which sent Vrenchen’s blood coursing through her veins; she took only occasional sips, however, and sat there shyly and demurely, like a real bride. She played this role partly out of a roguish desire to see whether she really could act the part, and partly because she truly felt like a bride. As she sat there, held in the grip of both love and fear, the walls of the room seemed to close in on her, and she made Sali take her out into the open air again.
Instinctively they seemed to avoid returning to the side lanes where they would be alone, and silently they walked along the road, past the groups of people standing there, looking to neither left nor right.
When they had left the last house behind them and were on the way to the next village, in which the fair was being held, Vrenchen caught Sali’s arm and said in a trembling whisper:
“Sali, why should we not give ourselves to each other and be happy?”
“I do not know why,” he stammered, gazing at the soft September sunshine which covered the meadows, and struggling to control his emotions. They stopped to kiss each other, but a party of young folk came into view, and they parted and walked on.
The big village was already swarming with activity. The sound of festive music came from the stately inn, and the young villagers had started to dance, while in the square a few stalls had been set up, with pastries and sweets and cheap trinkets. The children were crowding around, together with others who had come rather to look than to buy.
Sali and Vrenchen went over to look as well, each with the wish to buy something for the other, since this was the first time that they had been to a fair together. Sali bought a big gingerbread house covered in gleaming white icing, with white doves sitting on its green roof and a little Cupid peeping out of the chimney, pretending to be a sweep; chubby-cheeked figures embraced each other at the open windows, their tiny red lips joined in a real kiss, since the painter had in his haste made only a single red daub for their two mouths. Their eyes were little black spots, and on the red door were inscribed the following lines:
“Come into my house, my darling!
Yet know, my dearest friend
That kisses are the currency
That people here must spend.”
The maiden spake: “My hero,
I have no trace of fear!
My only thought is of the joys
That we can savour here!
And this it was that drew me,
To seek here thy embrace!”
So come, good lovers, follow now
The custom of this place!
Painted on the walls of the house, to the left and right of the door, were a gentleman in a blue cloak and a fine lady with a very large bosom, and in the spirit of the poem each was inviting the other inside.
For Sali, Vrenchen bought a heart, on one side of which was a slip of paper with the words:
An almond sweet is buried in this heart so gay and free;
But sweeter than the almond is the love I bear to thee!
On the other side was the inscription:
And when this heart is eaten, recall the words I say:
My love will live unsullied until the Judgement Day!
Eagerly they read these mottoes, and never did a poem strike so deep, or was adjudged so beautiful, as was this gingerbread doggerel. It seemed to have been written especially for them, so exactly did it mirror their own feelings.
“You have given me a home,” said Vrenchen with a sigh. “And I have given you one, too – a true one. For our hearts are now our home, and we are carrying it about with us like the snails!”
“Then we are like two snails carrying each other’s home!” smiled Sali.
“All the more reason why we should stay close together, so that each can be near his own!”
Not realizing that their jests were of the same kind as those of the many gingerbread shapes laid out before them, they continued to examine the sentimental inscriptions, particularly those attached to the lavishly decorated hearts, large and small, that lay there. Vrenchen discovered a gilt heart strung like a lyre, on which was written:
Soft music in this heart abounds;
The more you play it, the more it sounds!
And when she read this, she seemed to hear the sound of music in her own heart.
Then they found a portrait of Napoleon which bore the following motto:
Napoleon was a hero real,
With heart of oak and sword of steel.
My love is fair and fancy free,
Yet faithful she will ever be!
While pretending to be absorbed in reading such verses, they each made secret purchases: Sali bought a gilt ring with a green stone, and Vrenchen chose a black chamois ring crowned with a golden forget-me-not. They both seemed to be urged by the thought to give each other some little trinket when the hour of their parting came. So engrossed were they in what they were doing that they did not notice the people gradually gathering round them in curiosity. A number of girls and lads from their own village were there and formed a circle round them, struck by their Sunday clothes, but the young couple seemed totally oblivious to the outside world.
“Just look!” said a voice. “It’s Vrenchen Marti with that young Sali from the town! See h
ow attached they are to each other, how affectionate and devoted! I wonder where they’re going?”
The bystanders’ surprise sprang from a strange mixture of pity, contempt for the baseness and depravity of their parents, and envy of the young couple’s happiness; for the pure love which they cherished for each other set them as far apart from the common mass as had their former loneliness and poverty.
Awaking at last from their reveries, they looked round them and saw the staring faces. No one greeted them, nor did they know whether they should greet the others – though this unfriendliness and mutual distrust were more the product of their embarrassment than a feeling of deliberate hostility.
Poor Vrenchen trembled and turned pale, but Sali led her away, and holding her little house in her hand, she followed him, although the cheerful sound of the band was coming from the inn and she longed so much to dance.
“We cannot dance here,” said Sali, when they had moved some distance away.
“Then let us give up our plans, and I will try to find somewhere to stay for the night.”
“No!” cried Sali. “You shall have your dance! That’s why I bought the shoes! Let’s go and join the poor folk; that’s where we really belong, and they won’t look down on us there. People always dance in the Garden of Paradise when the fair is here, because it belongs to the same parish, so let’s go there. They might even give you a bed.”
Vrenchen shuddered at the thought of sleeping for the first time in a strange place but involuntarily she followed her guide, who was now all she had in the world.
The Garden of Paradise was an inn beautifully set on a lonely hillside, with a wide view of the surrounding country, but it was only frequented by the lower classes, children of poor farmers and labourers, and all kinds of vagabonds. It had been built a hundred years ago by a rich eccentric as a small country house, but after he died, nobody wanted to live there. Since it could not be put to any useful purpose, the whole estate fell into decay and finally passed into the hands of a man who turned it into an inn. The appearance of the place, however, together with its name, remained unchanged.
It consisted of a single-storeyed building with a terrace on the roof, the sides of which were open and the roof supported by four weather-beaten sandstone pillars, one at each corner, depicting the four archangels. The portico was adorned with little cherubs, also carved in sandstone, with big heads and fat bodies, playing triangles, fiddles, pipes, cymbals and tambourines. These instruments had originally been painted gold, and the ceiling inside, as well as the outer walls of the whole building, were covered with faded frescoes depicting merry groups of angels and figures of singing, dancing saints. But everything was pale and blurred as in a dream, and vines now covered the whole surface, with dark grapes ripening in the midst of the thick foliage. The house was surrounded by large, untended chestnut trees, and gnarled rose trees sprawled over the ground like elderberry bushes.
The terrace was used for dancing, and from a long way off Sali and Vrenchen could see the figures up there, while crowds of revellers drank and jostled each other round the house below. Vrenchen, who was still reverently carrying her gingerbread house, looked like one of those religious benefactresses in old pictures, who bear in their hands a model of the church or nunnery which they have founded. But the house that was in Vrenchen’s mind would never be built.
When she heard the cheerful dance music, however, she forgot her sorrows and wanted nothing but to dance with Sali. Threading their way through the people sitting in front of the inn and in the parlour, poor, ragged folk from Seldwyla and surrounding places who were looking for a cheap day’s entertainment, they climbed the stairs and began to dance a waltz, gazing silently into each other’s eyes.
When the waltz had ended, they looked round them. Vrenchen’s little house was crushed, and she was just preparing to cry, when she looked up to see the sinister figure of the Black Fiddler.
He was sitting perched on a bench on top of a table, and looked as black as ever, but this time he had stuck a sprig of green pine needles in his hat, while at his feet stood a bottle of red wine and a glass. Yet although he stamped his feet the whole time he was playing his fiddle, he never knocked the bottle or glass over, so that the whole performance was like a step-dance. By his side sat a handsome but sad-looking young man with a horn, and a hunchback with a double bass.
Sali, too, shrank from the sight of the Fiddler, who, however, greeted them cordially and cried:
“I knew I would play a tune for you to dance to some day! So enjoy yourselves, young lovers, and let us drink to one another!”
He held out the glass to Sali, who took it and drank his health. When the Fiddler saw how frightened Vrenchen looked, he tried to console her, and succeeded in making her smile at some of his good-natured jests. Slowly her cheerfulness returned, and they were glad to have a friend there; indeed, they almost felt as though they were under the Fiddler’s special care and protection.
On and on they danced, forgetting both themselves and the world in the singing and rejoicing around them, that rang out far into the countryside as the silver haze of the autumn evening began to settle. They danced until darkness fell and most of the merry guests had dispersed to their distant homes, singing and shouting.
Those who stayed were the real fraternity of the road, who were set on following a joyful day with a joyful night. Among them were some motley-dressed characters who appeared to know the Fiddler well, such as a young lad in a green corduroy jacket and a crumpled straw hat round which he had twined a garland of mountain-ash leaves. This boy had with him a wild-looking girl in a cherry-red cotton skirt with white spots, who had set on her head a coronet of vines, with a cluster of grapes over each temple. This couple was the most abandoned of all those present, darting from one corner to another, and dancing and singing without pause.
A slim, attractive girl was also there, dressed in a faded black silk dress and with a white linen scarf on her head, the long point hanging down at the back; the red stripes woven into it showed that it had been a towel or a serviette. Beneath this head-covering glistened a pair of deep blue eyes. Round her neck and on her breast hung a necklace, not of coral but of six rows of mountain-ash berries threaded on a string. The whole evening she danced alone, invariably turning down the young men’s offers. Lightly and gracefully she tripped round the room, smiling each time she passed the sad-looking horn player, who looked the other way whenever she approached. Other young women were also there with their consorts, all shabbily dressed but no less friendly and merry for that.
When darkness fell, the landlord refused to light the candles, claiming that the wind would only blow them out; besides, he said, the full moon would soon be up, and moonlight was quite sufficient illumination for the money that they had spent. This decision met with universal approval, and the company took up position on the parapet, watching the red glow that was already visible on the horizon.
As soon as the moon’s rays fell on the open dance floor, the couples began to dance again, this time gently and in blissful happiness, as though they were dancing by the glow of a thousand candles. The strange light seemed to bring them closer together, and in the general merriment Sali and Vrenchen could not but join in and dance with other partners. Yet whenever they were drawn apart for a while, they quickly sought each other again and rejoiced as though they had not seen each other for years.
Whenever he had to dance with another girl, Sali looked depressed and ill-tempered, and kept looking round for Vrenchen. But she did not look at him as she swept past, and, her cheeks flushed like a rose, seemed happy to dance with any partner.
“Are you jealous, Sali?” she asked, when the musicians had become tired and stopped playing for a while.
“Heaven forbid!” he replied. “How could I be?”
“Then why do you look so cross when I dance with other boys?”
“It’s not your dancing with other boys, but my having to dance with other girls! I feel as thou
gh I’m holding a piece of wood in my arms! Don’t you feel the same way?”
“Oh, I’m always happy when I’m dancing, as long as I know that you are there too. But if you ever went away and left me alone, I think I would die!”
They went down the stairs and stood in front of the inn. Vrenchen threw her arms around him and clasped him to her slender, trembling body, laying her flushed, tear-stained cheek against his.
“We cannot stay together,” she sobbed, “yet I cannot leave your side, even for a single moment.”
Sali held her tightly in his arms and covered her with kisses. Desperately he tried to think of an answer but he could find none. For even had he been able to outlive the despair and unhappiness which attended his own life, his inexperience and his youthful passion ill equipped him to face a long time of trial and renunciation. And there also remained the figure of Vrenchen’s father, whom he had rendered helpless for the rest of his life.
They both knew that they could only find true happiness by becoming man and wife. Lonely and abandoned as they were, this thought was the last flicker of that flame of honour which had burned in their families in times gone by, and which their ambitious fathers had extinguished when, thinking to augment this honour by adding to their material wealth, they had so recklessly laid hands on the property of another.
Such events happen every day, but from time to time fate decides to intervene, and brings together two such seekers after fame and riches, letting them provoke and finally devour each other like wild beasts. For it is not only kings and emperors who miscalculate this way: men from the humblest cottages can be equally guilty, showing through their erring ways that the obverse of a badge of honour is a badge of shame.
Sali and Vrenchen, however, remembered how their families had once enjoyed honour and esteem, and how they had been brought up as the children of trusted and respected fathers. Then they had been drawn apart, and when they finally came together again, they saw in each other that happiness which their families had lost, and their memories made them cling all the more passionately to each other; the happiness they craved had to have a firm foundation, and though their blood throbbed through their veins, urging them to consummate their union, that foundation seemed to be ever beyond their grasp.
A Village Romeo and Juliet Page 7