Korzh saw the sacks,--and was mollified. "Such a Petrus, quite unheard
of! yes, and did I not love him? Was he not to me as my own son?" And
the old fellow carried on his fiction until it reduced him to tears.
Pidorka began to tell him how some passing gypsies had stolen Ivas; but
Petro could not even recall him--to such a degree had the Devil's
influence darkened his mind! There was no reason for delay. The Pole was
dismissed, and the wedding-feast prepared; rolls were baked, towels and
handkerchiefs embroidered; the young people were seated at table; the
wedding-loaf was cut; banduras, cymbals, pipes, kobzi, sounded, and
pleasure was rife . . .
A wedding in the olden times was not like one of the present day. My
grandfather's aunt used to tell--what doings!--how the maidens--in
festive head-dresses of yellow, blue, and pink ribbons, above which they
bound gold braid; in thin chemisettes embroidered on all the seams with
red silk, and strewn with tiny silver flowers; in morocco shoes, with
high iron heels--danced the gorlitza as swimmingly as peacocks, and as
wildly as the whirlwind; how the youths--with their ship-shaped caps
upon their heads, the crowns of gold brocade, with a little slit at the
nape where the hair-net peeped through, and two horns projecting, one in
front and another behind, of the very finest black lambskin; in
kuntushas of the finest blue silk with red borders--stepped forward one
by one, their arms akimbo in stately form, and executed the gopak; how
the lads--in tall Cossack caps, and light cloth svitkas, girt with
silver embroidered belts, their short pipes in their teeth--skipped
before them, and talked nonsense.
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