A SPINNING BEE
The evening before they left Niamtz, a crowd of Maritza's girl friends
gathered at her home for a Spinning Bee.
They came with heads uncovered, for only married women in Roumania wear
veils or kerchiefs. They were all dressed in holiday finery, with their
hair beautifully waved.
At first a merry little maiden with very red cheeks, and very black
eyebrows over sparkling eyes, and black hair twisted into a double
plait, came in for a good deal of teasing for some reason or other. She
didn't seem to mind it and her bright answers caused much laughter and
good feeling. Finally she succeeded in drawing attention from herself
by asking a riddle. This was followed by another and another until
everybody in the room was guessing.
Then Maritza's mother, who had been busy getting refreshments ready,
came in exclaiming, "Time for work, girls!"
At this there was a general cry of "Maritza!" "We want Maritza!"
"Maritza must be our leader!"
Maritza stepped forward with some show of reluctance. "There are better
spinners and better singers than I am," she said modestly. But the
girls, rising quickly, formed a ring around her, singing in chorus,
"It's you we want."
Then Maritza took her spindle and began to spin. At the same time she
improvised a strange song all about a mysterious _heiduk_ or chieftain
who passed through their village. Suddenly she threw her spindle to the
black-eyed, red-cheeked maiden, holding it by a long thread as she did
so. The merry maiden caught it and was obliged to continue both the
spinning and singing while Maritza pulled out the flax. This required
much dexterity.
When each girl had had her turn, both in spinning and singing,
refreshments were passed around. There was _mamaliga_, baked pumpkin,
potatoes, and last of all, plenty of popcorn.
Then, while all seated resumed their work, one of their number was
begged for a story.
She smilingly consented, and told the following strange and pathetic
tale.
THE STORY OF A LILAC TREE
"This is a story of what once must have taken place, for if it had
never occurred, I would not now have it to tell.
"In a little valley among the high mountains, there lived a maiden all
alone. She worked all day at her spinning and weaving and sang with joy
as she worked.
"So the years went on, each year adding loveliness to her face and
figure. One day when out gathering firewood for her small needs she
heard what sounded like a cry of pain. Making her way into the thicket
she found a man sorely wounded.
"She spoke to him but he had become unconscious, and, not knowing what
else to do, she took him in her strong arms and carried him to her hut
and laid him on her own bed. Then she washed out his wounds and tended
him like a sister.
"As soon as he could speak, he tried to express his gratitude. 'Dear
maiden,' he said, 'had it not been for you I should never again have
seen the light of day, and even as it is, I fear I shall never walk
again. For it was no ordinary mortal by whom I was wounded, but a demon
of some kind who threatened that even should I survive, all power to
move my legs will have left me. Of what good will life then be to me?
Trouble yourself no longer, sweet maiden, to cure me. Rather let my
wounds bleed anew.'
"But the beautiful girl shook her head. 'Why should we believe all that
ill?' she said. 'I am skilled in herb lore and shall cure you.'
"For more than a week the man lay in bed while the girl tended him. And
she grew to love him, he was so patient, so grateful for all she did.
Then, one morning, he looked brightly at her: 'Lo, I am cured.' And he
sat up in bed. But when he tried to get down he could not.
"And the next day it was the same and the next. But the man did not
speak of any disappointment. Instead, he told his nurse strange stories
of the life he had seen, and one day something that she found hard to
bear. It was of the beautiful woman whom he loved and would have wed.
"The maiden, though now sad, still tended him faithfully, but to no
avail. At last, in her distress, she sought out a witch who was famed
for her wisdom over the whole mountain side.
"'The man is under enchantment,' said the old woman. 'He knows his
cure, but will not tell it to thee.'
"'Tell me what it is!' exclaimed the maiden. 'I will pay any price for
the cure!'
"'Are you sure?' asked the witch with a disagreeable laugh.
"'I am sure,' answered the maiden.
"'Know then,' said the witch, 'that only a virgin life like yours can
save him. Will you give your life?'
"The girl looked down in thought. At last she spoke. 'If it is indeed
so, why should I not? He is strong again and the world has need of
him. He loves another from whom only bewitchment separates him. The
happiness of two is worth the sacrifice of one. I will give my life
that they may wed.'
"The next morning when the man made his daily trial to arise, he found
to his amazement that he could do so. He looked around for the maiden,
but she was nowhere to be seen. He waited all day and till the next
morning but she did not come. Then, full of regret, he went away. Near
the threshold of the hut he stopped to pick a branch of fragrant lilac.
As he did so, the whole bush swayed with delight, and it seemed to him
that a spirit within it called his name as he turned away."