wailing: “My own dear father, my own mother dear, how am I to live forevermore thus grieving with woe in marriage?” But the Bride uttered never a word. And the maidens, having finished their song, involuntarily regarded her askance. They began to whisper among themselves, and, frowning, they slowly, in a drawling tone, struck up the “orphan’s song”:
“Heat yourself hot, you little bath, Ring out, you sonorous bell!”
And Kuzma’s tightly clenched jaws began to quiver; a chill darted through his head and his legs; his cheekbones ached agreeably, and his eyes were filled and dimmed with tears.
“Stop that, you girls!” someone shouted.
“Stop it, my dear, stop it!” cried Odnodvorka, slipping down from the bench. “ ’Tis unseemly.”
But the girls did not obey:
“Ring out, you sonorous bell, Awaken my father dear. …”
And the Bride began, with a groan, to fall face down on her knees, on her arms, and choked with tears. She was led away at last, trembling, staggering, and shrieking, to the cold summer half of the cottage, to be dressed.
After that was done, Kuzma bestowed the blessing on her. The bridegroom arrived with Vaska, Yakoff’s son. The bridegroom had donned the latter’s boots; his hair had been freshly clipped short; his neck, encircled by the collar of a blue shirt with lace, had been shaved to redness. He had washed himself with soap, and appeared much younger; he was even not at all ill looking, and, conscious of that fact, he had drooped his dark eyelashes in dignified and modest fashion.