THE GEINA MAID-MARKET
"Would your ladyship believe,"--so Todor[24] Rubán began his story of
Juon the strong,--"sitting here as you do by the fireside, accustomed
from your birth to every elegant luxury, with a particular servant
always ready to fly obediently to accomplish each separate command, and
with different glasses and porcelain for each several course at
meals--would your ladyship believe, I ask, that there are people in this
world who know not what it is to have a roof above their heads when they
go to sleep, who would not recognize a bed or a dinner service if they
saw them, nay, who often are in want of bread--and yet, for all that,
are happy?
[Footnote 24: Theodore.]
"And yet such people live quite close to us. We need not think of the
savage inhabitants of Oceania,--we can see enough of them and to spare
in this very place. Your ladyship can hear from your balcony the
melancholy songs of their pastoral flutes, especially of an evening,
when the milch-goats are returning from the deep valleys.
"The herdsman here never sleeps beneath a roof either summer or winter;
every spring he counts the goats of his master's herds and the half of
every increase belongs to him; nobody enquires how he lives there among
his herds in the lofty mountain-passes, how he defends himself against
hurricanes and snow-storms, yes, and against the wild beasts of the
forest, the bears and wolves--nobody troubles his head about all that.
"Such a goatherd is that same Juon whom your ladyship has learnt to
know. Perhaps we shall hear something more about him some other time,
for his life has been very romantic; now, however, I will only tell you
of a single episode therein:
"There once lived near here in the district of Vlaskutza, a rich
_pakular_[25] who had scraped together a lot of gold out of a mining
venture at Verespatak, and therefore went by the name of wealthy Misule.
[Footnote 25: Roguish speculator.]
"He had an only daughter, Mariora by name,--and has your ladyship any
idea of what Roumanian beauties are? A sculptor could not devise a
nobler model. So beautiful was she that her fame had spread through the
Hungarian plain as far as Arad, and whenever great folks from foreign
lands came to see Gyenstar and Brivadia they would make a long circuit
and come to Vlaskucza in order to rest at the house of old Misule, where
the finest prospect of all was a look into the eyes of Mariora.
"This wonderously beautiful maiden loved the poor goatherd Juon, who
possessed nothing in the world but his sheepskin pelisse and his
alpenstock; him she loved and him alone. Wealthy old Misule would
naturally have nothing to say to such a match; he had in his eye an
influential friend of his, a gentleman and village elder in the county
of Féhervár, one Gligor Tobicza,--to him he meant to give his daughter.
Reports were spread that Juon was a wizard. It was Misule's wife who
fastened this suspicion upon him, because he had succeeded in bewitching
her daughter. She said among other things, that he understood the
language of the brute beasts, that he had often been seen speaking with
wolves and bears, and that when he spread out his shaggy sheepskin, he
sat down at one end of it and a bear at the other. There was this much
of truth in the tale, that once when he was tending his flocks Juon
heard a painful groaning in the hollow of a rock, and, venturing in,
perceived lying in one corner a she-bear who, mortally injured in some
distant hunt, had contrived to drag its lacerated body hither to die.
Beside the old she-bear lay a little suckling cub. The mother dying
before his very eyes, Juon had compassion on the desolate cub, took it
under his protection, and carried it to a milch-goat, who suckled it.
The little wild beast thrived upon the milk of the tame animal and,
softened by human fellowship, grew up much attached to its master.
Bears, I may tell your ladyship, are not bloodthirsty by nature.
Henceforth the bear went forth with the herdsman and the herds, helped
to drive the goats together of an evening, and enlivened the long
dreary days by turning somersaults--an art at which bears excel. At
night it slept by Juon's side and made itself cosey by burying its snout
in his bosom. When meal-time came, the bear sat down beside Juon, for he
knew that every second slice of cheese would be his. He also fetched
fire-wood to put under the pot in which the maize-pottage was boiling.
Then, too, he explored the woods in search of wild honey and brought
back his booty to share it with Juon. When it was very hot he carried
his pelisse after him, a pelt more or less made very little difference
to him. Juon had nobody to speak to but the bear, and if a man speaks
quite seriously to the beasts they get to understand him at last.
Moreover, in moments of ill temper the bear had learnt to recognize that
Juon's fists were no less vigorous than his own paws, so that he had no
temptation to be ungrateful.
"This, then, was the man beloved by Mariora.
"In our part of the country, my lady, there is an original popular
custom, the maiden-market.
"In the highlands of Bihar stands the rocky bluff of Geina, which grows
green, like every other Transylvanian height, as soon as it is cleansed
from snow. There I first met Juon, many years ago. He stood there on the
mountain summit the live-long day, blowing on his alpenstock, while the
bear was plucking strawberries in the valley below and guarding the
goats, not from running away, but from other wild beasts. The prospect
from this spot is really sublime. In one direction you can see the
mountain-chain of Vulcani, in the other the environs of Klausenberg and
the Gyalian Alps. But westwards stretches the great Hungarian plain,
whose misty expanse loses itself against the horizon.
"On a certain day of the year things are very lively at Geina. In the
evening of the first Sunday after St. John Baptist's day the
ginger-bread-bakers come thither from Rezbanya and Topanfalu with their
horses dragging loads of honey-cakes, and barrels full of meal and
brandy, and pitch their tents in the forest-clearing. On that Sunday the
highlands are full of merry folks, and the maiden-market is held there.
"From near and far repair thither the mothers and their marriageable
daughters, all tricked out with their dowries ready in the shape of
strings of gold and silver coins round their necks, with bright
variegated garments at their horses' sides, and stuffed pillows and
painted pitchers on the saddles in front of them. All these things they
unpack and arrange in rows in front of the tents, just as at an ordinary
fair; and then the purchasers come along, jaunty, connubially-inclined
young fellows, who inspect the dowries, engage the wenches in
conversation, and chaffer and haggle and go away again if they cannot
come to terms. Many of the girls are kept back, others are given up to
the first bidder, and when once a couple is mated they are escorted to
the tune of lively flutes and bagpipes to the first Kalugye,[26] or
pastor, who sanctifies the union according to the religion of the
spouses.
[Footnote 26: Or rather, _Calugaru_, monk, not pastor.]
"Your ladyship laughs at this custom, yet it is capable of a very
natural explanation. The inhabitants of these Alpine regions live
necessarily far away from one another--how else could they tend their
herds?--even the nearest neighbours being a good stiff half hour's walk
apart. So the young girls stay at home, and the young fellows only see
them once a year--at the maiden-market of Geina.
"Now, of course such a famous beauty as Mariora had no need to go all
the way to the Geina fair in search of a husband, especially as one had
already been chosen for her who brought with him all the pride of
riches. But her father Misule would not on any account have neglected
the opportunity of exhibiting his daughter, during the pilgrimage to
Geina, as the most lovely girl of the district; and his wife could not
have lived unless she had hung out Mariora's gold-embroidered shift in
front of the tent and haughtily sent at least ten suitors about their
business.
"Gligor Tobicza, coming all the way from Rezpatak, appeared at the fair
at the same time, with twelve high-backed horses and six Gipsy
musicians, ribbons and coloured kerchiefs fluttering from every horse
and every cap. The comrades drank together and then had a little rumpus
also. Tobicza broke the heads of a few of the more uproarious spirits,
and then peace was restored again, and the general good humour was
higher than ever--only the bride remained sad.
"Suddenly it occurred to Tobicza that it would be nice to get a kiss
from Mariora. But the girl repulsed him: 'I am not your wife yet,' she
cried.
"'Yet if Juon were to ask for you, I suppose you would not say no?'
"The girl honestly confessed that she would not.
"At this Tobicza was mad with rage. 'Let him come hither then, if he
loves you,' cried he, 'let him tear you away from me if he be the better
man. I will strike him dead with this--see!' And drawing a long
goat-skin bag out of his girdle, the bottom of which was choke full of
ducats, and whirling it round his head like a morning-star[27] he turned
forestwards and roared: 'Come hither, tattered Juon, thou ragged dog!
'Tis now maiden-market day if you want to buy Mariora! Come forth thou
cowardly hound and let me beat you to death! I'll fell you to the earth
with my ducats. I'll break your head with my gold money.' And the whole
crowd laughed at and loudly applauded these witticisms.
[Footnote 27: A spiked club.]
"But just as he was raging most furiously, a great roaring suddenly
arose from the direction of the forest,--whereupon the crowd rushed away
from their tents to their horses, overturning barrels and trunks as they
went, the women screaming and the men cursing, and all with one voice
exclaiming: 'the bear is coming!' 'Juon is coming with his bear!'
"That was enough for every one. Only the most determined sportsmen care
about tackling a bear in the open, for even when mortally wounded the
beast is quite capable of taking his revenge. In an instant every soul
rushed headlong from the summit of Geina into the roads below, leaving
behind bride, dowry and drinking booth; so that when the bear and Juon
leaped out of the juniper bushes there was nobody left on Geina. Nobody,
that is, but Mariora, who did not fly with the fugitives, but hid
herself in the tent.
"Tobicza had headed the race, but as his legs were heavy with the mead
he had drunk, he threw away his big bag of gold to lighten his limbs and
prevent Juon from overtaking him. But Juon, snatching it up, whirled it
round like a sling and threw it with all his might after his rival,
exclaiming: 'There's your money, big voice! take it and buy a wife with
it. You are nothing at all without it. But I am still Juon, though I
have only an axe in my hands.'
"Then he went up to Mariora, kissed and embraced her, and asked her if
she would be his bride and go away and live with him in the forest. And
when she said: 'Yes,' he kissed her again and took her with him into the
free forest without once looking back at the dowry lying abandoned there
with all its gold and glitter. In his eyes only Mariora was of gold,
nothing else.
"The bear meanwhile made some little havoc in a mild sort of way, among
the honey-cakes, but he did no other damage.
"And I can assure your ladyship that this wife who has nothing in the
world but her husband, but that husband all her own--is even now very
happy."