CHAPTER III

THE MARRIAGE OF ANKA

The withdrawing of Mrs. Fitzpatrick from Paulina's life meant a

serious diminution in interest for the unhappy Paulina, but with

the characteristic uncomplaining patience of her race she plodded

on with the daily routine at washing, baking, cleaning, mending,

that filled up her days. There was no break in the unvarying

monotony of her existence. She gave what care she could to the two

children that had been entrusted to her keeping, and to her baby.

It was well for her that Irma, whose devotion to the infant became

an absorbing passion, developed a rare skill in the care of the

child, and it was well for them all that the ban placed by Mrs.

Fitzpatrick upon Paulina's house was withdrawn as far as Irma and

the baby were concerned, for every day the little maid presented

her charge to the wise and watchful scrutiny of Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

The last days of 1884, however, brought an event that cast a glow

of colour over the life of Paulina and the whole foreign colony.

This event was none other than the marriage of Anka Kusmuk and

Jacob Wassyl, Paulina's most popular lodger. A wedding is a great

human event. To the principals the event becomes the pivot of

existence; to the relatives and friends it is at once the

consummation of a series of happenings that have absorbed their

anxious and amused attention, and the point of departure for a new

phase of existence offering infinite possibilities in the way of

speculation. But even for the casual onlooker a wedding furnishes a

pleasant arrest of the ordinary course of life, and lets in upon

the dull grey of the commonplace certain gleams of glory from the

golden days of glowing youth, or from beyond the mysterious planes

of experience yet to be.

All this and more Anka's wedding was to Paulina and her people.

It added greatly to Paulina's joy and to her sense of importance

that her house was selected to be the scene of the momentous event.

For long weeks Paulina's house became the life centre of the

colony, and as the day drew nigh every boarder was conscious of

a certain reflected glory. It is no wonder that the selecting of

Paulina's house for the wedding feast gave offence to Anka's tried

friend and patron, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. To that lady it seemed that

in selecting Paulina's house for her wedding Anka was accepting

Paulina's standard of morals and condoning her offences, and it

only added to her grief that Anka took the matter so lightly.

"I'm just affronted at ye, Anka," she complained,

"that ye can step inside the woman's dure."

"Ah, cut it out!" cried Anka, rejoicing in her command of the

vernacular. "Sure, Paulina is no good, you bet; but see, look

at her house--dere is no Rutenian house like dat, so beeg. Ah!"

she continued rapturously, "you come an' see me and Jacob dance de

'czardas,' wit Arnud on de cymbal. Dat Arnud he's come from de old

country, an' he's de whole show, de whole brass band on de park."

To Anka it seemed an unnecessary and foolish sacrifice to the

demands of decency that she should forego the joy of a real

czardas to the music of Arnud accompanying the usual violins.

"Ye can have it," sniffed Mrs. Fitzpatrick with emphatic disdain;

all the more emphatic that she was conscious, distinctly conscious,

of a strong desire to witness this special feature of the festivities.

"I've nothing agin you, Anka, for it's a good gurrl ye are, but me and

me family is respectable, an' that Father Mulligan can tell ye, for his

own mother's cousin was married till the brother of me father's uncle,

an' niver a fut of me will go beyant the dure of that scut, Paulina."

And Mrs. Fitzpatrick, resting her hands upon her hips, stood the living

embodiment of hostility to any suggested compromise with sin.

But while determined to maintain at all costs this attitude

toward Paulina and her doings, her warm-hearted interest in

Anka's wedding made her very ready with offers of assistance

in preparing for the feast.

"It's not much I know about y're Polak atin'," she said,

"but I can make a batch of pork pies that wud tempt the

heart of the Howly Moses himsilf, an' I can give ye a bilin'

of pitaties that Timothy can fetch to the house for ye."

This generous offer Anka gladly accepted, for Mrs. Fitzpatrick's

pork pies, she knew from experience, were such as might indeed have

tempted so respectable a patriarch as Moses himself to mortal sin.

The "bilin' of pitaties," which Anka knew would be prepared in no

ordinary pot, but in Mrs. Fitzpatrick's ample wash boiler, was none

the less acceptable, for Anka could easily imagine how effective

such a contribution would be in the early stages of the feast in

dulling the keen edge of the Galician appetite.

The preparation for the wedding feast, which might be prolonged

for the greater part of three days, was in itself an undertaking

requiring careful planning and no small degree of executive ability;

for the popularity of both bride and groom would be sufficient to

insure the presence of the whole colony, but especially the reputed

wealth of the bride, who, it was well known, had been saving with

careful economy her wages at the New West Hotel for the past three years,

would most certainly create a demand for a feast upon a scale of more

than ordinary magnificence, and Anka was determined that in providing

for the feast this demand should be fully satisfied.

For a long time she was torn between two conflicting desires:

on the one hand she longed to appear garbed in all the glory of the

Western girl's most modern bridal attire; on the other she coveted

the honour of providing a feast that would live for years in the

memory of all who might be privileged to be present. Both she could

not accomplish, and she wisely chose the latter; for she shrewdly

reasoned that, while the Western bridal garb would certainly set

forth her charms in a new and ravishing style, the glory of that

triumph would be short-lived at best, and it would excite the envy

of the younger members of her own sex and the criticism of the

older and more conservative of her compatriots.

She was further moved to this decision by the thought that inasmuch

as Jacob and she had it in mind to open a restaurant and hotel as

soon as sufficient money was in hand, it was important that they

should stand well with the community, and nothing would so insure

popularity as abundant and good eating and drinking. So to the

preparation of a feast that would at once bring her immediate glory

and future profit, Anka set her shrewd wits. The providing of the

raw materials for the feast was to her an easy matter, for her

experience in the New West Hotel had taught her how to expend to

the best advantage her carefully hoarded wages. The difficulty was

with the cooking. Clearly Paulina could not be expected to attend to

this, for although her skill with certain soups and stews was

undoubted, for the finer achievements of the culinary art Paulina

was totally unfitted. To overcome this difficulty, Anka hit upon the

simple but very effective expedient of entrusting to her neighbours,

who would later be her guests, the preparing of certain dishes

according to their various abilities and inclinations, keeping

close account in her own shrewd mind of what each one might be

supposed to produce from the materials furnished, and stimulating

in her assistants the laudable ambition to achieve the very best

results. Hence, in generous quantities she distributed flour for

bread and cakes in many varieties, rice and beans and barley, which

were to form the staple portion of the stews, cabbage and beets and

onions in smaller measure--for at this season of the year the

price was high--sides of pork, ropes of sausages, and roasts of

beef from neck and flank. Through the good offices of the butcher

boy that supplied the New West Hotel, purchased with Anka's shyest

smile and glance, were secured a considerable accumulation of shank

bones and ham bones, pork ribs and ribs of beef, and other scraps

too often despised by the Anglo-Saxon housekeeper, all of which

would prove of the greatest value in the enrichment of the soups.

For puddings there were apples and prunes, raisins and cranberries.

The cook of the New West Hotel, catching something of Anka's generous

enthusiasm, offered pies by the dozen, and even the proprietor himself,

learning of the preparations and progress, could think of nothing so

appropriate to the occasion as a case of Irish whiskey. This, however,

Anka, after some deliberation, declined, suggesting beer instead,

and giving as a reason her experience, namely, that "whiskey make

too quick fight, you bet." A fight was inevitable, but it would be

a sad misfortune if this necessary part of the festivities should

occur too early in the programme.

Gradually, during the days of the week immediately preceding the

ceremony, there began to accumulate in the shacks about, viands of

great diversity, which were stored in shelves, in cupboards,--where

there were any,--under beds, and indeed in any and every available

receptacle. The puddings, soups and stews, which, after all, were to

form the main portion of the eating, were deposited in empty beer

kegs, of which every shack could readily furnish a few, and set out

to freeze, in which condition they would preserve their perfect

flavour. Such diligence and such prudence did Anka show in the

supervision of all these arrangements, that when the day before the

feast arrived, on making her final round of inspection, everything

was discovered to be in readiness for the morrow, with the single

exception that the beer had not arrived. But this was no over-sight

on the part of Jacob, to whom this portion of the feast had been

entrusted. It was rather due to a prudence born of experience that

the beer should be ordered to be delivered at the latest possible hour.

A single beer keg is an object of consuming interest to the Galician

and subjects his sense of honour to a very considerable strain; the

known presence of a dray load of beer kegs in the neighbourhood would

almost certainly intensify the strain beyond the breaking point. But as

the shadows of evening began to gather, the great brewery dray with its

splendid horses and its load of kegs piled high, drew up to Paulina's

door. Without loss of time, and under the supervision of Rosenblatt

and Jacob himself, the beer kegs were carried by the willing hands of

Paulina's boarders down to the cellar, piled high against the walls,

and carefully counted. There they were safe enough, for every man, not

only among the boarders but in the whole colony, who expected to be

present at the feast, having contributed his dollar toward the purchase

of the beer, constituted himself a guardian against the possible

depredations of his neighbours. Not a beer keg from this common store

was to be touched until after the ceremony, when every man should have

a fair start. For the preliminary celebrations during the evening and

night preceding the wedding day the beer furnished by the proprietor

of the New West Hotel would prove sufficient.

It was considered a most fortunate circumstance both by the bride

and groom-elect, that there should have appeared in the city,

the week before, a priest of the Greek Catholic faith, for though

in case of need they could have secured the offices of a Roman

priest from St. Boniface, across the river, the ceremonial would

thereby have been shorn of much of its picturesqueness and efficacy.

Anka and her people had little regard for the services of a Church

to which they owed only nominal allegiance.

The wedding day dawned clear, bright, and not too cold to forbid

a great gathering of the people outside Paulina's house, who stood

reverently joining with those who had been fortunate enough to

secure a place in Paulina's main room, which had been cleared of

all beds and furniture, and transformed for the time being into

a chapel. The Slav is a religious man, intensely, and if need be,

fiercely, religious; hence these people, having been deprived for

long months of the services of their Church, joined with eager and

devout reverence in the responses to the prayers of the priest,

kneeling in the snow unmoved by and apparently unconscious of

the somewhat scornful levity of the curious crowd of onlookers

that speedily gathered about them. For more than two hours the

religious part of the ceremony continued, but there was no sign of

abating interest or of waning devotion; rather did the religious

feeling appear to deepen as the service advanced. At length there

floated through the open window the weirdly beautiful and stately

marriage chant, in which the people joined in deep-toned guttural

fervour, then the benediction, and the ceremony was over.

Immediately there was a movement toward the cellar, where Rosenblatt,

assisted by a score of helpers, began to knock in the heads of the beer

kegs and to hand about tin cups of beer for the first drinking of the

bride's health. Beautiful indeed, in her husband's eyes and the eyes of

all who beheld her, appeared Anka as she stood with Jacob in the doorway,

radiant in the semi-barbaric splendour of her Slavonic ancestry.

This first formal health-drinking ceremony over, from within

Paulina's house and from shacks roundabout, women appeared with

pots and pails, from which, without undue haste, but without undue

delay, men filled tin cups and tin pans with stews rich, luscious,

and garlic flavoured. The feast was on; the Slav's hour of rapture

had come. From pot to keg and from keg to pot the happy crowd

would continue to pass in alternating moods of joy, until the acme

of bliss would be attained when Jacob, leading forth and up and down

his lace-decked bride, would fling the proud challenge to one and all

that his bride was the fairest and dearest of all brides ever known.

Thus with full ceremonial, with abundance of good eating,

and with multitudinous libations, Anka was wed.

The Foreigner: A Tale of Saskatchewan · 第 3 / 19 章