whose delight it germinates into maturity—wherefore should we trouble ourselves about that?
What more have I to relate?
About three o’clock one afternoon, the sexton, Vanek, strode across the village green of Frishets with the great key in his hand in the direction of the chapel.
Those who stood at the window and saw him did not ask one another whether there was a fire or whether some one was dead. They knew why he went to the chapel just at that hour, and only said to one another, “So it will be at once.”
And here they walked out in front of their farmhouses, and seeing neighbours lounging about the other farms, took a few steps towards the centre of the green, and saluted each other just as they had spoken at home, “So it will be at once.”
All were dressed in holiday attire, even their faces were in holiday attire, the whole village was in holiday attire. Down the middle of the village green were posted branches of May with pennons streaming, the whole forming an arcade which stretched from the Loykas’s farm to the chapel. Even the Loykas’s house itself was smothered in pine-branches and looked as spick-and-span as on a high festival.
On this occasion Vena again marched with a basket in his hand; he had rosolek in the basket, and poured out and gave to drink to any one who desired. On this occasion he was in good humour as though he was going to be wedded himself. He poured out the liquor very briskly and continually invited the good folk to drink, “Now to their health, neighbours!”
“How, then, do you greet your new mistress, Vena?” they inquired.
“I greet her well,” said Vena, “and verily I say as thus, look you, “The Lord God grant you as many little dears for me to carry across the green as there are flasks here! That’s how I greet her!”
“And how many may that be?” said the neighbours, laughing.
“How can I tell until you have drunk out the lot”, said Vena, and constantly invited them to imbibe.
To look at him you would have said it was Vena’s own bridal day that was being celebrated. And nothing would have embittered his gay humour, only one question from neighbour Kmoch, Barushka’s father, vexed him. “How many wagons are required to bring home Staza’s marriage portion?” he inquired with a very saucy leer.
