NIZAM'S WEDDING
Boghos Effendi forbade his son to go away from the farm again, and
the days that followed were very long for our little friend, so he
was glad when his father told him that they would soon be going back
to Van. Winter sets in early on these high table-lands, and Boghos
Effendi wanted to get home before cold weather. The shepherds were
very sorry to see Archag go; his high spirits had brightened their
monotonous days, and they made him promise to come back another summer.
The journey home was accomplished without any remarkable adventures,
and at the end of three weeks Archag was once more in his mother's
arms. "How nice it is to be at home!" he kept saying, over and
over again.
A week after his arrival he resumed his lessons. He had well-nigh
forgotten them during his holidays, and had to work hard and steadily
to catch up with his schoolmates. During the long winter evenings he
never tired of talking about his journey, and of the Highland Farm,
and everything he had seen. Levon listened with mouth wide open,
in rapt admiration of his older brother.
An important event now turned the current of the boys' thoughts into
a new channel, and occupied all their spare hours. Jousif hodja had
asked Boghos Effendi for the hand of Nizam, and the Feast of Saint
Sylvester was set for the wedding-day. So from November on, the house
was like a bee-hive, for there was the trousseau to be finished, and
purchases had to be made, to say nothing of the preparations for the
wedding feast. As the days passed, the excitement increased. Every
afternoon the neighbors came to offer their help and gratify their
curiosity. They examined the presents, criticised them, and expressed
their opinions, to the great exasperation of old Gulenia, who scolded
them roundly.
Archag and Levon wrote the invitations, and helped in the kitchen
whenever there were eggs to be beaten and dough to be stirred.
The morning of the wedding-day came at last. Nizam, arrayed in
rose-colored silk, sat in the middle of the reception room; her head
was covered with a veil held at the temples by large gold sequins. She
sat stiff and silent, for propriety forbade her to open her mouth on
this day even to reply to the congratulations of her relatives and
friends. Archag, always a tease, declared that she would make up for
it later. Her face was pale, and there were dark rings around her
eyes; she had been up since dawn and was still fasting, for she was
to make her Communion in church after hearing the nuptial Mass. She
cast envious glances at her guests, who were eating and drinking,
and apparently enjoying themselves very much.
About eleven o'clock, the firing of cannon announced that it was
time to start for church. Nizam rose, and her mother drew the veil
over her face; then two youths set her on a white horse which was
waiting for her in the courtyard. The young bride of the Orient has
to make a show of resistance as an expression of sorrow at leaving
her father and mother, and the friends of the bridegroom must drag
her out of the house by force. The parents, for their part, bewail
the departure of their daughter.
Nizam was fairly successful in feigning a sorrow which she really
did not feel at all, for she loved Jousif hodja. With one hand she
held the bridle of her horse, and with the other she pressed to her
bosom a mirror, a symbol of the purity which she was to bring to
her husband. All her friends followed, uttering cries of grief. The
bridegroom and his friends were awaiting Nizam's retinue in front of
the Cathedral. When they saw the company enter the square, they gave
shouts of welcome and fired pistols in token of their joy.
Nizam knelt down beside Jousif while the choir boys sang a charagan
(hymn). The Bishop, vested in his chimere had ascended the steps
of the altar: he intoned the Mass, and asked the betrothed if they
desired to become husband and wife, and upon their assent, he gave
them the Host, and held the chalice for them to drink of the red
wine, the blood of Jesus Christ. Then, as they knelt together, he
blessed them with an ivory crucifix, slipped the wedding-ring over
their fingers, and thus united them for the sharing of the joys and
sorrows of life. Then Nizam and Jousif stood up, and more charagans
were sung, interspersed with the firing of guns and cannon.
The religious ceremony over, the bridal pair and their guests went to
the house of Jousif hodja, where a great collation awaited them. The
plates were heaped with portions of turkey, goose, woodcock and
grouse; then came a course of pastry and Turkish sweets: baklava [12]
with pistachio and hazel nuts, walnut cakes, lokums [13] melting in
the mouth, preserved peaches and plums, orangeade, cedrats, colored
sugar-plums, and brown and white nougat. Coffee was served in tiny
silver cups, passed around by the servants; some of the guests
preferred sherbets (iced drinks) flavored with rose, violet or vanilla.
All were happy and gay: the bridal pair alone were not expected
to take part in the general merriment, but sat in formal silence,
enthroned at the head of the table.
A white-haired bard sang this ancient ballad, accompanying himself
on the tamboura:
"Dark night shrouds the plain of Avarair,
The silver moon has hidden herself to weep in silence:
For Vartan and his braves are lying
Dead on the cruel earth.
Suddenly a piercing cry rends the darkness:
'Vartan, Vartan where art thou?'
But nought except the screech-owl
Responds to the maiden's despairing cry.
The fair Shnorig advances, groping her way;
Tearless, her eyes burning with fever,
She hastens over the battle-field
Searching for the body of her betrothed lover,
'Saint Ripsimé, [14] protectress of lovers in distress,
Guide her in her search!'
Courage well-nigh fails the unhappy maid.
By the light of her lantern she questions the faces of the dead;
At length a sob escapes her;
There at her feet lies her lover, dead.
Never has he seemed to her more beautiful.
His face is marble white; his hair ebony black.
She throws herself upon his neck,
Trying in vain to restore warmth by her kisses.
Slowly resuscitated by love,
The Mamigonian rises.
His eyes are filled with the terror of the Beyond;
But his lips murmur:
'Shnorig, my well-beloved,
Shnorig, my sweet bride,
I am going to leave thee;
The dark visitant calls me and will not wait.
Death comes to clasp me in his skeleton arms;
Our love is cut down like the flowers of the field.
'Vartan, Vartan, leave me not!
I will claim thee from my rival
Or die with thee!'
She clasps him with rapture;
She covers his face with kisses;
She wails out her love like a hyena.
But her lover can no longer reply;
The white daisies are dyed crimson with his blood.
His lips breathe one last sigh,
And his soul is borne away on the wings of the wind.
Jealous Death is lying in wait for a second victim:
He it is who inspires the wretched Shnorig with fatal thoughts.
Sadly the maiden looks upon the battle-field,
The plain of Avarair.
She murmurs a farewell to life,
And draws the bloody sword from Vartan's body.
She kisses it with fervor,
Then plunges it in her own bosom.
She falls, like a lily cut down in all its beauty.
Her alabaster arm is thrown around her lover's neck;
A smile flits across her lips;
Her soul, in its turn, takes flight.
And the silent moon hides herself to weep in silence."
The old musician played sad and mournful harmonies on his tamboura. The
guests listened, gazing into the infinite, and dreaming of their
unhappy country.
Gradually they all withdrew; the parents took leave of their cherished
daughter, weeping, for they were not to see her again for nine
months. [15] Archag walked in front, carrying the lantern.