Stempenyu: A Jewish Romance

XV STEMPENYU IS MARRIED AGAINST HIS WISH

Once upon a time, Stempenyu came into the village of Tasapevka and played for three weddings, in partnership with the local orchestra, the members of which had come to him in a body and had taken a terrible oath before him that they would break every bone in his body if he did not agree to divide the proceeds of the wedding with them. Nor would they have spared him if he had not agreed to satisfy their demands at once, which he did, having a kind heart and being utterly opposed to vexing anybody. So they all played together at the weddings, and peace reigned among the musicians.

Between each of the weddings there was an interval of several days, during which Stempenyu had nothing at all to do. He went out amongst the families of the local musicians, and made the acquaintance of Isaiah the Fiddler’s daughter — a finely built girl of about twenty-two years old. She had a swarthy complexion, black hair like a raven’s wings, and dark eyes that had a green glitter in them. Stempenyu fell madly in love with her, after the fashion that was usual with him. He kissed her, and embraced her, and bought her presents; and, when the time came for him to go away, the young woman, whose name was Freidel, told him to make no mistake. She was not going to let him go until he had affianced himself to her, openly and publicly, according to the customs which obtained in the village. She was going to bind him to her as effectually as was possible. Stempenyu was not used to engaging himself publicly to any of the girls he made love to, and he tried to drag himself free from the net into which he had entangled himself. He twisted and turned, and argued at great length, and pulled this way and that; but, all to no purpose. Freidel was a girl with a strong will. She had made up her mind to keep Stempenyu by her side forever, now that she had him in her clutches, and would not dream of letting him escape from her. He was compelled to do as she wished. The formal engagement took place amidst great rejoicing. All the musicians of the village came together, and by their united forces, succeeded in making a grand spree in honour of the famous bridegroom. And, in the house of Isaiah the Fiddler, the rejoicings were kept up for three days on end.

At last Stempenyu managed in getting free of the people, and he left the village to go on his rounds to the other places, where he was waited for.

Naturally, he set out to forget his engagement as soon as possible — to shake himself free, metaphorically speaking, of Freidel and everybody and everything connected with her. And, he conducted himself quite as usual. That is to say, he flirted desperately in every village he came to, according to his old habit. He had a good time, wherever he found himself with his orchestra, and thought of nothing, when suddenly…

There is no such thing in the world as everlasting happiness. Everything changes sooner or later. Everything is only for a certain time. And, Stempenyu’s freedom was destined to be snatched from him for ever. And evil destiny had set out in pursuit of him. An evil spirit laid hands on him, and in a moment overthrew his careless, joyous youth forever. A great misfortune befell him.

He was playing at a wedding in a little town somewhere in Malo-Russia, and was carrying on a love affair with a pretty girl of the village, the only daughter of Hirshka the Flautist, and was one day in the middle of making all sorts of promises to her to come back and marry her, when Michsa the Drummer with sleepy face came over to him, gave him a dig in the ribs, regardless of the presence of the village girl, winked at him and said to him, in a whisper which did not reach her:

“Go, Stempenyu, there in the house a girl is waiting for you.”

“A girl? What sort of girl?”

“A dark girl with green eyes.”

Stempenyu went over to the house, and found that the girl who was waiting for him was no other than his affianced wife, Freidel, the daughter of Isaiah the Fiddler Tasapevka.

“Why do you look so hard at me, Stempenyu? Do you not know me? Ha! ha! How he squints and blinks his eyes at me. It is I, Stempenyu. Freidel, your own Freidel, Isaiah the Fiddler’s daughter.”

“Well, I know that. And what then? I don’t know you? Of course I do. But how did you get here? And what have you come for?”

“How did I get here? With my feet, Stempenyu — with my feet, I tell you. I asked my way at every step, until I came at last to the house of Hirksha the Flautist. And, where do I come from? From home, of course. How else could it be?”

“Well, and what news is there at home? When did you leave?”

“What news can there be, Stempenyu? There is no news. When did I leave home? I left home about six or seven weeks ago. We were everywhere you like. Wherever we came, we were told that you had been there, but had gone away again, until at last we arrived at the right place. Well, and how are you, Stempenyu? Are you well?”

“What? I? How should it be with me? Come, Freidel. Why are we standing here?” he added, seeing that a group of musicians had gathered around him, and were staring at him with curiosity as well as the dark girl with the black hair who had just come into the village.

“For my part, let us go,” she answered.

Stempenyu snatched up his overcoat and his walking stick, and went out into the village by the side of Friedel the Black-One. He looked around to see that no one was within hearing distance, and he addressed her in a firm voice:

“Tell me, I pray you, what this means?”

“What do you mean by asking what this means?”

“I mean — why have you come here?”

“Listen to him!” she exclaimed. “One would imagine he was dead as a door-nail, or goodness knows only what!”

“Do you hear, Freidel?” Stempenyu demanded. “Do you hear me, Freidel? I don’t like to have such tricks played on me. I asked you plainly what you are doing here, and you answered me with ridicule. I want none of that.”

Freidel threw a sharp glance at him out of the corners of her green eyes, swept back the long plait which had fallen forward over her shoulder, and answered him in a serious voice:

“You want to know what I am doing here? I came to see you Stempenyu. On the day of our betrothal, you said you would write to me the moment you set foot in the village for which you were bound. You promised that you would make arrangements immediately for our wedding to take place in two or three weeks’ time. I waited and waited to hear from you for more than two months, but, you wrote never so much as a word. So, we decided to go out into the world in search of you. And, we found that looking for you was like looking for the day before yesterday. We were in every corner of the world, and now at last the Lord took pity on us, and we—”

“Tell me, Freidel, who are ‘we’? You said ‘we’ each time. ‘We’ went and ‘we’ came.”

“We two. That is my mother and I, Stempenyu.”

“Your mother!” cried Stempenyu. And, all at once he felt that he was a beaten man. “Your mother? What is she doing here?”

“Hush! What are you shouting for, Stempenyu? What did you suppose? No girl travels by herself. It would be a nice thing to do, eh?”

“True. But, what business has your mother with me?” asked Stempenyu, as he turned round, and retraced his steps back to the village.

“She is my mother, and will become your mother-in-law. You must remember that, Stempenyu.”

“And, do you really imagine, Freidel, that I am going to marry you?”

“Well, and what do you think yourself, Stempenyu?”

“Nonsense!”

“Why is it nonsense?”

“Because I never thought seriously of marrying you at all.”

Freidel stopped, and gazed at Stempenyu, right into his eyes. Then she looked about her on all sides to see if there was anyone near them. She drew closer to Stempenyu, and whispered to him hurriedly:

“Listen to me, Stempenyu. Don’t imagine that you have to do with a timid little girl who does not know anything of what foes on in the world. I know you well, Stempenyu. I know that you are a thorough-going charlatan. You would like to have a different girl to flirt with every day of the week. But, all this does not matter now. Everything has to come to an end at some time or another. Isn’t it so? In reality, you are not a bad sort, by any means. It is all because your heart is so soft. But, you are handsome, too — a man in ten thousand. And, your playing is marvelous. You can always provide for a wife. And, for these reasons, I want you. You must marry me, and that speedily. And, all your protests are in vain — a mere waste of breath. Bend your head a little lower, and I will tell you a secret.”

Freidel’s secret sent a thrill through Stempenyu’s frame. He was unable to lift a hand or a foot. He was like turned to stone. He remained standing stock still in the middle of the road, and could not even open his mouth to utter a single word. At this juncture there arrived upon the scene, panting and breathless, the red haired Michsa Drummer. He was looking for Stempenyu to tell him that the wealthiest man of the village was waiting for him to make arrangements to have him play at his daughter’s wedding.

Stempenyu pared from Freidel with a sigh. His last words were:

“We will meet again, Freidel.”

“There is no doubt that we will meet again,” was Freidel’s reply. And, she parted from Stempenyu well satisfied with the progress of affairs.

Everyone who saw Stempenyu when he played at that wedding was surprised at the pallor of his countenance, and the abstracted, glassy stare that was in his eyes. He looked far worse than many a man who was about to be laid in his grave. His carelessness and his joviality had been taken from him as with a hand. And, within himself, Stempenyu was feeling that the end of his old free life had come. He would never again be able to fly here and there like a bird of the high heavens. He was about to take upon his shoulders an everlasting yoke. Farewell to moonlight walks with pretty girls! Farewell to laughing eyes and ruddy lips! Farewell to silver, starlit nights of enchantment!

It was true that Stempenyu did not give in to his bondage without a struggle. But, he was as a fish that is caught in a net, and, no amount of struggling was of the least avail.

Freidel and her mother were arrayed in battle against him, and he could not hope to fight them down. Indeed, he was afraid to say a word. Especially was he afraid of Freidel’s mother. She was in the habit of screwing up her tiny black face until it almost disappeared from sight, and only her black eyes were to be seen burning in her head like two living coals. She looked so vicious that Stempenyu was afraid she would pounce down upon him, and tear him to pieces as a wild cat tears its prey, scratching the eyes out of his head, and clawing him all over. He felt that she kept herself from falling upon him only because Freidel held her back from doing so. He knew that she would not permit it. He was as sure of it as if he had actually heard her say:

“Do not interfere, mother. You will only make things worse. You had better do nothing and say nothing. Just look on in silence. But, be sure to keep a strict watch over him at every step he takes. He is a slippery customer, and may succeed in tearing himself free from our grip, in spite of all our precautions. But, and all will be well, mother, all will be well. Stempenyu is mine — he is mine!”