{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_11461/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_11461","id":"gutenberg_11461","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11461","summary":null,"tags":["Armenian literature","Armenian literature -- Translations into English","Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Plays/Films/Dramas","Category: Poetry"],"text":"ARMENIAN LITERATURE\n\nCOMPRISING\n\nPOETRY, DRAMA, FOLK-LORE, AND CLASSIC TRADITIONS\n\n\nTRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH FOR THE FIRST TIME\n\nWITH A SPECIAL INTRODUCTION BY\n\nROBERT ARNOT, M.A.\n\n\nREVISED EDITION\n\n\n1904\n\n\n\n\n\nSPECIAL INTRODUCTION\n\nThe literature of ancient Armenia that is still extant is meagre in\nquantity and to a large extent ecclesiastical in tone. To realize its\noriental color one must resort entirely to that portion which deals with\nthe home life of the people, with their fasts and festivals, their\nemotions, manners, and traditions. The ecclesiastical character of much\nof the early Armenian literature is accounted for by the fact that\nChristianity was preached there in the first century after Christ, by\nthe apostles Thaddeus and Bartholomew, and that the Armenian Church is\nthe oldest national Christian Church in the world.\n\nIt is no doubt owing to the conversion of the entire Armenian nation\nunder the passionate preaching of Gregory the Illuminator that most of\nthe literary products, of primitive Armenia--the mythological legends\nand chants of heroic deeds sung by bards--are lost. The Church would\nhave none of them. Gregory not only destroyed the pagan temples, but he\nsought to stamp out the pagan literature--the poetry and recorded\ntraditions that celebrated the deeds of gods and goddesses and of\nnational heroes. He would have succeeded, too, had not the romantic\nspirit of the race clung fondly to their ballads and folk-lore.\nEcclesiastical historiographers in referring to those times say quaintly\nenough, meaning to censure the people, that in spite of their great\nreligious advantages the Armenians persisted in singing some of their\nheathen ballads as late as the twelfth century. Curiously enough, we owe\nthe fragments we possess of early Armenian poetry to these same\necclesiastical critics. These fragments suggest a popular poesy,\nstirring and full of powerful imagery, employed mostly in celebrating\nroyal marriages, religious feasts, and containing dirges for the dead,\nand ballads of customs--not a wide field, but one invaluable to the\nphilologist and to ethnological students.\n\nThe Christian chroniclers and critics, however, while preserving but\nlittle of the verse of early Armenia, have handed down to us many\nlegends and traditions, though they relate them, unfortunately, with\nmuch carelessness and with a contempt for detail that is often\nexasperating to one seeking for instructive parallelisms between the\nheroic legends of different nations. Evidently the only object of the\necclesiastical chroniclers in preserving these legends was to invest\ntheir descriptions of the times with a local color. Even Moses of\nChorene, who by royal command collected many of these legends, and in\nhis sympathetic treatment of them evinces poetic genius and keen\nliterary appreciation, fails to realize the importance of his task.\nAfter speaking of the old Armenian kings with enthusiasm, and even\ncondoning their paganism for the sake of their virility, he leaves his\ncollection in the utmost disorder and positively without a note or\ncomment. In the face of such difficulties, therefore, it has been hard\nto present specimens of early Armenian folk-lore and legends that shall\ngive the reader a rightful idea of the race and the time.\n\nAs Armenia was the highroad between Asia and Europe, these old stories\nand folk-plays show the influence of migrating and invading people. The\nmythology of the Chaldeans and Persians mingles oddly with traditions\npurely Armenian. This is well shown in the story of David of Sassun,\ngiven in this volume. David was the local hero of the place where Moses\nof Chorene was born and probably spent his declining years, after years\nof literary labor and study in Athens and Alexandria. The name of the\ndistrict was Mush, and close by the monastery in which Moses was buried\nlies the village of Sassun.\n\nDavid's history is rich in personal incident, and recalls to the reader\nthe tales related of the Persian Izdubar, the Chaldeo-Babylonian Nimrod,\nand the Greek Heracles. He is as much the hero of the tale as is Joseph\nAndrews in Fielding's classic of that name. His marvellous strength is\nused as handily for a jest as for some prodigious victory over man or\nmonster. He is drawn for us as a bold, reckless fellow, with a\nrollicking sense of humor, which, in truth, sits but awkwardly upon the\nintense devotion to the Cross and its demands with which Moses or some\nlater redactor has seen fit to burden this purely pagan hero. David is\nvery human in spite of his blood-stained club and combative instincts,\nand his kindliness and bonhomie awake in us a passing disappointment at\nhis untimely demise.\n\nIf we except some ecclesiastical writings, these fragments preserved by\nMoses of Chorene and others comprehend all that is left to us of the\nliterature of Armenia antedating the Persian invasion. After the Persian\nflood of fire and sword had rolled over this Asiatic Poland, the\nstricken Christian Church revived. A monk named Mesrob set to work to\nrevive the spirit of literature. His difficulties were great. It was not\nalone the resuscitating of a dead literary desire, but it entailed also\nthe providing of a vehicle of expression, namely an alphabet, so deeply\nhad the Persian domination imprinted itself upon the land. As might be\nexpected, the primary results of the revival were didactic, speculative,\nor religious in character. Mysticism at that time flourished in the\nmonasteries, and the national spirit--the customs, habits, joys, and\nemotions of the people--had not yet found re-expression in script. The\nChurch became the dominant power in literature, and if it is true on the\none hand that the Armenian people lost intellectual independence, it is\nalso true on the other that they gained that religious zeal and strength\nwhich enabled them as an entity--a united race--to survive the fatal day\nof Avarair, where, under the shadow of hoary Ararat, the Armenian\nMarathon was fought and lost, and Vartan, their national hero, died. All\nsorts of traditions cluster still around the battlefield of Avarair. A\nspecies of red flower grows there that is nowhere else to be found, and\nit is commonly believed that this red blossom sprang originally from the\nblood of the slain Armenian warriors. On the plain of Avarair is also\nfound a small antelope with a pouch upon its breast secreting musk--a\npeculiarity gained, they say, from feeding on grass soaked with the\nblood of Armenia's sons. And at Avarair, too, it is said that the lament\nof the nightingales is ever, \"Vartan, Vartan.\" The story of these times\nis preserved in fragments in the religious chronicles of Lazarus of\nPharb and of Eliseus. When, during the Persian domination, Armenia\nbecame entirely shut off from the avenues of Greek culture, and was left\nunaided in her struggle for national existence, the light of literature\nagain sank to a feeble gleam. There was, indeed, a faint revival in the\ntenth century, and again a second and a stronger renaissance in the\ntwelfth under the impulse given by Nerses, and by his namesake, the\nPatriarch. But this revival, like the former, was not general in\ncharacter. It was mostly a revival of religious mysticism in literature,\nnot of the national spirit, though to this epoch belong the choicest\nhymnological productions of the Armenian Church.\n\nThere are no chronicles extant that can be called purely Armenian. The\noldest chronicles that we have of Armenia--and there are many--wander\noff into the histories of other people--of the Byzantines, for instance,\nand even of the Crusaders. The passages that deal with Armenia are\ndevoted almost entirely to narrating the sufferings of the Armenians\nunder the successive invasions of pagans and Mahometans, and the efforts\nmade to keep the early Christian faith--forming almost a national book\nof martyrs, and setting forth a tragic romance of perpetual struggle.\nThese records cannot be called Armenian literature in a real sense, for\nin many cases they were not written by Armenians, but they picture in\nvivid fashion the trials suffered by Armenians at the hands of invading\nnations, and the sacrifices made to preserve a national existence. They\npicture, in pages bristling with horrible detail, the sacrifices and\nsufferings of a desperate people, and in them we see Armenia as the\nprophet saw Judea, \"naked, lying by the wayside, trodden under foot by\nall nations.\" These chronicles have an interest all their own, but they\nlack literary beauty, and not being, in themselves, Armenian literature,\nhave not been included in the selections made as being purely\nrepresentative of the race and land.\n\nThe examples of Armenian proverbs and folk-lore included in this volume\nshow, as is usual, the ethnological relationship that is so easily\ntraced between the fables of _Aesop_, of Bidpai, of Vartan, and of\nLoqman. It may be said with truth that in the folk-lore and fables of\nall nations can be traced kinship of imagination, with a variety of\napplication that differs with the customs and climate of the people. But\nthe Armenian is especially rich in a variety of elements. We meet\nenchantments, faculties, superstitions, and abstract ideas personified,\nwhich are supposed to attach miraculous meanings to the most ordinary\nevents. Dreams, riddles, and the like--all are there. The one strange\npersonification is the Dew. The Dew is a monster, half demon, half\nhuman; sometimes harmless, sometimes malevolent; mortal, indeed, but\nreaching a good or, shall we say, an evil old age. The Dew figures in\nnearly all Armenian fairy-tales.\n\nThe Armenian proverbs exhibit the persistent capacity of the Armenians\nduring a time of _Sturm und Drang_ to embody, in pithy, wise, and\nsometimes cynical form, the wisdom drawn from their own experience and\nfrom that of the ages. It is possible that the cynical vein discernible\nin some of these proverbs is a result of the intense and continued\nnational trials. Take, for instance, this proverb, \"If a brother were a\ngood thing, God would have provided himself with one.\" Can anything be\nmore cynical?\n\nThe poems are of later origin. Since the twelfth century, when\nliterature burst the bonds imposed upon it by ecclesiastical domination,\nthe poetic spirit of the Armenians has found expression. It is rich in\noriental passion and imagery, brilliant in expression, and intensely\nmusical. But through all the poems we are reminded of the melancholy\nstrain that pervaded the exiles of Jerusalem when \"by the waters of\nBabylon\" they \"sat down and wept.\" The apostrophe to Araxes reminds us\nof the trials of Armenia, of her exiled sons, of her wasted land, and of\nthe perpetual fast she ever keeps in mourning for her children.\n\nThe comedy of \"The Ruined Family\" and the pathetic story of \"The Vacant\nYard\" are also of the post-monastic era. In the comedy we gain an\ninsight into the jealousy and the pride of life that pervaded then as\nnow the middle walks of life. Its Ibsenesque quality is very striking.\nThe persistent and human struggle of the mother to gain a high position\nin life for her daughter through marriage, and the agonizing of the\nfather to get together a suitable dower for his daughter, together with\nthe worldly-wise comments and advice of the old aunt, are so true to\nmodern life that one realizes anew the sameness of human nature in all\nclimes and ages.\n\n\"The Vacant Yard\" gives us a charming picture of Armenian life. The\npeople are depicted with an impartial pen, subject to the minor crosses\nand humors of fate, having their ups and downs just as we do to-day, but\nthe intense local color that pervades the story holds one to the closing\nline.\n\nAs a people the Armenians cannot boast of as vast a literature as the\nPersians, their one-time conquerors, but that which remains of purely\nArmenian prose, folk-lore, and poetry tells us of a poetic race, gifted\nwith imaginative fire, sternness of will, and persistency of adherence\nto old ideas, a race that in proportion to their limited production in\nletters can challenge comparison with any people.\n\n[Signature: Robert Arnot]\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nPROVERBS AND FOLK-LORE\n\nTHE VACANT YARD\n\nARMENIAN POEMS\n  A Plaint\n  Spring in Exile\n  Fly, Lays of Mine\n  The Woe of Araxes\n  The Armenian Maiden\n  One of a Thousand\n  Longing\n\nDAVID OF SASSUN\n\nTHE RUINED FAMILY\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nPROVERBS AND FOLK-LORE\n\n[_Translated by F.B. Collins, B.S._]\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nPROVERBS AND FOLK-LORE\n\n\nI know many songs, but I cannot sing.\n\nWhen a man sees that the water does not follow him, he follows the\nwater.\n\nWhen a tree falls there is plenty of kindling wood.\n\nHe who falls into the water need have no fear of rain.\n\nA good swimmer finds death in the water.\n\nStrong vinegar bursts the cask.\n\nDogs quarrel among themselves, but against the wolf they are united.\n\nGod understands the dumb.\n\nOnly he who can read is a man.\n\nThe chick shows itself in the egg, the child in the cradle.\n\nWhat a man acquires in his youth serves as a crutch in his old age.\n\nOne wit is good; two wits are better.\n\nBegin with small things, that you may achieve great.\n\nA devil with experience is better than an angel without.\n\nWhat the great say, the humble hear.\n\nHe who steals an egg will steal a horse also.\n\nTurn the spit, so that neither meat nor roasting-iron shall burn.\n\nOne can spoil the good name of a thousand.\n\nWhat manner of things thou speakest of, such shalt thou also hear.\n\nThe grandfather ate unripe grapes, and the grandson's teeth were set on\nedge.\n\nOne bad deed begets another.\n\nGo home when the table is set, and to church when it is almost over.\n\nA devil at home, a parson abroad.\n\nGod created men and women: who, then, created monks?\n\nPoor and proud.\n\nIn dreams the hungry see bread and the thirsty water.\n\nEre the fat become lean, the lean are already dead.\n\nWish for a cow for your neighbor, that God may give you two.\n\nWhat is play to the cat is death to the mouse.\n\nUnless the child cries, the mother will not suckle it.\n\nA fish in the water is worth nothing.\n\nGold is small but of great worth.\n\nAt home the dog is very brave.\n\nObserve the mother ere you take the daughter.\n\nIf you lose half and then leave off, something is gained.\n\nThe good mourn for what was taken away, the wolf for what was left\nbehind.\n\nOnly a bearded man can laugh at a beardless face.\n\nHe descends from a horse and seats himself on an ass.\n\nNo other day can equal the one that is past.\n\nWhen a man grows rich, he thinks his walls are awry.\n\nMake friends with a dog, but keep a stick in your hand.\n\nOne should not feel hurt at the kick of an ass.\n\nThe blind have no higher wish than to have two eyes.\n\nThe thief wants only a dark night.\n\nA thief robbed another thief, and God marvelled at it in heaven.\n\nHe who has money has no sense; and he who has sense, no money.\n\nHe who begs is shameless, but still more shameless is he who lends not\nto him.\n\nBetter lose one's eyes than one's calling.\n\nWhat the wind brings it will take away again.\n\nA bad dog neither eats himself nor gives to others.\n\nRunning is also an art.\n\nOnly in the bath can one tell black from white.\n\nWater is sure to find its way.\n\nWhat does the blind care if candles are dear?\n\nSpeak little and you will hear much.\n\nNo one is sure that his light will burn till morning.\n\nHe who speaks the truth must have one foot in the stirrup.\n\nThe more you stone a dog the more he barks.\n\nOne blossom does not make a spring.\n\nOne hand cannot clap alone.\n\nStrike the iron while it is hot.\n\nTake up a stick, and the thieving dog understands.\n\nCorruption illumines dark paths.\n\nWhen they laid down the law to the wolf, he said, \"Be quiet, or the\nsheep will run away.\"\n\nOne hears Ali is dead; but one knows not which one.\n\nThe scornful soon grow old.\n\nWho shall work? I and thou. Who shall eat? I and thou.\n\nStay in the place where there is bread.\n\nIf bread tastes good, it is all one to me whether a Jew or a Turk bakes\nit.\n\nOne loves the rose, another the lilac.\n\nBefore Susan had done prinking, church was over.\n\nThe simpleton went to the wedding and said, \"Indeed, it is much better\nhere than it is at home.\"\n\nHe sleeps for himself and dreams for others.\n\nThe flower falls under the bush.\n\nNot everything round is an apple.\n\nWhat does an ass know about almonds?\n\nA king must be worthy of a crown.\n\nWhen you are going in consider first how you are coming out.\n\nWhat thou canst do to-day leave not until to-morrow.\n\nThe rose of winter-time is fire.\n\nThe end of strife is repentance.\n\nFrom the same flower the serpent draws poison and the bees honey.\n\nMy heart is no table-cover to be spread over everything.\n\nAs long as the wagon is not upset the way is not mended.\n\nThe water that drowns me is for me an ocean.\n\nThe Armenian has his understanding in his head, the Georgian in his\neyes.\n\nThe ass knows seven ways of swimming, but when he sees the water he\nforgets them all.\n\nThe wound of a dagger heals, but that of the tongue, never.\n\nA good ox is known in the yoke, a good woman at the cradle of her child.\n\nLove ever so well, there is also hate; hate ever so much, there is\nalways love.\n\nA shrewd enemy is better than a stupid friend.\n\nTo rise early is not everything; happy are they who have the help of\nGod.\n\nA dress that is not worn wears itself out.\n\nI came from the ocean and was drowned in a spoonful of water.\n\nBecause the cat could get no meat, he said, \"To-day is Friday.\"\n\nThe house that a woman builds God will not destroy; but a woman is\nlikely to destroy the house that God has built.\n\nThe dowry a woman brings into the house is a bell. Whenever you come\nnear, the clapper strikes in your face.\n\nBy asking, one finds the way to Jerusalem.\n\nWhich of the five fingers can you cut off without hurting yourself?\n\nThe father's kingdom is the son's mite.\n\nFar from the eye, far from the heart.\n\nIf a brother was really good for anything, God would have one.\n\nWhen God gives, He gives with both hands.\n\nA daughter is a treasure which belongs to another.\n\nThe world is a pair of stairs: some go up and others go down.\n\nThe poor understand the troubles of the poor.\n\nThe childless have one trouble, but those who have children have a\nthousand.\n\nGod turns away his face from a shameless man.\n\nThe eyes would not disagree even if the nose were not between them.\n\nUntil you see trouble you will never know joy.\n\nYou never know a man until you have eaten a barrel of salt with him.\n\nEvery man's own trouble is as large as a camel.\n\nThe goat prefers one goat to a whole herd of sheep.\n\nThe fox has destroyed the world, and the wolf has lost his calling.\n\nThe fool throws himself into the stream, and forty wise men cannot pull\nhim out.\n\nA near neighbor is better than a distant kinsman.\n\nWhen I have honey, the flies come even from Bagdad.\n\nA guest comes from God.\n\nThe guest is the ass of the inn-keeper.\n\nWhen everything is cheap the customer has no conscience.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTHE SHEEP-BROTHER\n\n\nOnce there was a widow and she had a daughter. The widow married a\nwidower who had by his first wife two children, a boy and a girl. The\nwife was always coaxing her husband: \"Take the children, do, and lead\nthem up into the mountains.\" Her husband could not refuse her, and, lo!\none day he put some bread in his basket, took the children, and set off\nfor the mountain.\n\nThey went on and on and came to a strange place. Then the father said to\nthe children, \"Rest here a little while,\" and the children sat down to\nrest. The father turned his face away and wept bitterly, very bitterly.\nThen he turned again to the children and said, \"Eat something,\" and they\nate. Then the boy said, \"Father, dear, I want a drink.\" The father took\nhis staff, stuck it into the ground, threw his coat over it, and said,\n\"Come here, my son, sit in the shadow of my coat, and I will get you\nsome water.\" The brother and sister stayed and the father went away and\nforsook his children. Whether they waited a long time or a short time\nbefore they saw that their father was not coming back is not known. They\nwandered here and there looking for him, but saw no human being\nanywhere.\n\nAt last they came back to the same spot, and, beginning to weep, they\nsaid:\n\n\"Alas! Alas! See, here is father's staff, and here is his coat, and he\ncomes not, and he comes not.\"\n\nWhether the brother and sister sat there a long time or a short time is\nnot known. They rose after a while, and one took the staff and the other\nthe coat, and they went away without knowing whither. They went on and\non and on, until they saw tracks of horses' hoofs filled with\nrain-water.\n\n\"I am going to drink, sister,\" said the brother.\n\n\"Do not drink, little brother, or you will become a colt,\" said the\nsister.\n\nThey passed on till they saw tracks of oxen's hoofs.\n\n\"O sister dear, how thirsty I am!\"\n\n\"Do not drink, little brother, or you will be a calf,\" the sister said\nto him.\n\nThey went on till they saw the tracks of buffalo hoofs.\n\n\"O sister dear, how thirsty I am!\"\n\n\"Drink not, little brother, or you will be a buffalo calf.\"\n\nThey passed on and saw the tracks of bears' paws.\n\n\"Oh, I am so thirsty, sister dear.\"\n\n\"Drink not, little brother, or you will become a little bear.\"\n\nThey went on and saw the tracks of swine's trotters.\n\n\"O sister dear, I am going to drink.\"\n\n\"Drink not, little brother, or you will become a little pig.\"\n\nThey went on and on till they saw the tracks of the pads of wolves.\n\n\"O sister dear, how thirsty I am!\"\n\n\"Do not drink, little brother, or you will become a little wolf.\"\n\nThey walked on and on till they saw the tracks of sheep's trotters.\n\n\"O sister dear, I am almost dying with thirst.\"\n\n\"O little brother, you grieve me so! You will, indeed, be a sheep if you\ndrink.\"\n\nHe could stand it no longer. He drank and turned into a sheep. He began\nto bleat and ran after his sister. Long they wandered, and at last came\nhome.\n\nThen the stepmother began to scheme against them. She edged up to her\nhusband and said: \"Kill your sheep. I want to eat him.\"\n\nThe sister got her sheep-brother away in the nick of time and drove him\nback into the mountains. Every day she drove him to the meadows and she\nspun linen. Once her distaff fell from her hand and rolled into a\ncavern. The sheep-brother stayed behind grazing while she went to get\nthe distaff.\n\nShe stepped into the cavern and saw lying in a corner a Dew, one\nthousand years old. She suddenly spied the girl and said: \"Neither the\nfeathered birds nor the crawling serpent can make their way in here; how\nthen hast thou, maiden, dared to enter?\"\n\nThe girl spoke up in her fright. \"For love of you I came here, dear\ngrandmother.\"\n\nThe old Dew mother bade the girl come near and asked her this and that.\nThe maiden pleased her very much. \"I will go and bring you a fish,\" she\nsaid, \"you are certainly hungry.\" But the fishes were snakes and\ndragons. The girl was sorely frightened and began to cry with terror.\nThe old Dew said, \"Maiden, why do you weep?\" She answered, \"I have just\nthought of my mother, and for her sake I weep.\" Then she told the old\nmother everything that had happened to her. \"If that is so,\" said the\nDew, \"sit down here and I will lay my head on your knee and go to\nsleep.\"\n\nShe made up the fire, stuck the poker into the stove, and said:\n\n\"When the devil flies by do not waken me. If the rainbow-colored one\npasses near, take the glowing poker from the stove and lay it on my\nfoot.\"\n\nThe maiden's heart crept into her heels from fright. What was she to do?\nShe sat down, the Dew laid her head on her knees and slept. Soon she saw\na horrible black monster flying by. The maiden was silent. After a while\nthere came flying by a rainbow-colored creature. She seized the glowing\npoker and threw it on the old Dew's foot. The old mother awoke and said,\n\"Phew, how the fleas bite.\" She rose and lifted up the maiden. The\ngirl's hair and clothing were turned to gold from the splendor of the\nrainbow colors. She kissed the old Dew's hand and begged that she might\ngo. She went away, and taking her sheep-brother with her started for\nhome. The stepmother was not there, and the maiden secretly dug a hole,\nburied her golden dress, and sat down and put on an old one.\n\nThe stepmother came home and saw that the maiden had golden hair.\n\n\"What have you done to your hair to make it like gold?\" she asked. The\nmaiden told her all, how and when. The next day the stepmother sent her\nown daughter to the same mountain. The stepmother's daughter purposely\nlet her distaff fall and it rolled into the hole. She went in to get it,\nbut the old Dew mother turned her into a scarecrow and sent her home.\n\nAbout that time there was a wedding in the royal castle; the King was\ngiving one of his sons in marriage, and the people came from all\ndirections to look on and enjoy themselves.\n\nThe stepmother threw on a kerchief and smartened up the head of her\ndaughter and took her to see the wedding. The girl with the golden hair\ndid not stay at home, but, putting on her golden dress so that she\nbecame from head to foot a gleaming houri, she went after them.\n\nBut on the way home, she ran so fast to get there before her stepmother,\nthat she dropped one of her golden shoes in the fountain. When they led\nthe horses of the King's second son to drink, the horses caught sight of\nthe golden shoe in the water and drew back and would not drink. The King\ncaused the wise men to be called, and asked them to make known the\nreason why the horses would not drink, and they found only the golden\nshoe. The King sent out his herald to tell the people that he would\nmarry his son to whomsoever this shoe fitted.\n\nHe sent people throughout the whole city to try on the shoe, and they\ncame to the house where the sheep-brother was. The stepmother pushed the\nmaiden with the golden locks into the stove, and hid her, and showed\nonly her own daughter.\n\nA cock came up to the threshold and crowed three times, \"Cock-a-doodle\ndoo! The fairest of the fair is in the stove.\" The King's people brushed\nthe stepmother aside and led the maiden with golden hair from the stove,\ntried on the shoe, which fitted as though moulded to the foot.\n\n\"Now stand up,\" said they, \"and you shall be a royal bride.\"\n\nThe maiden put on her golden dress, drove her sheep-brother before her,\nand went to the castle. She was married to the King's son, and seven\ndays and seven nights they feasted.\n\nAgain the stepmother took her daughter and went to the castle to visit\nher stepdaughter, who in spite of all treated her as her mother and\ninvited her into the castle garden. From the garden they went to the\nseashore and sat down to rest. The stepmother said, \"Let us bathe in the\nsea.\" While they were bathing she pushed the wife of the King's son far\nout into the water, and a great fish came swimming by and swallowed her.\n\nMeanwhile the stepmother put the golden dress on her own daughter and\nled her to the royal castle and placed her in the seat where the young\nwife always sat, covering her face and her head so that no one would\nknow her.\n\nThe young wife sat in the fish and heard the voice of the bell-ringer.\nShe called to him and pleaded: \"Bell-ringer, O bell-ringer, thou hast\ncalled the people to church; cross thyself seven times, and I entreat\nthee, in the name of heaven, go to the prince and say that they must not\nslaughter my sheep-brother.\"\n\nOnce, twice the bell-ringer heard this voice and told the King's son\nabout it.\n\nThe King's son took the bell-ringer with him and went at night to the\nseashore. The same voice spoke the same words. He knew that it was his\ndear wife that spoke, and drew his sword and ripped open the fish and\nhelped his loved one out.\n\nThey went home, and the prince had the stepmother brought to him, and\nsaid to her: \"Mother-in-law, tell me what kind of a present you would\nlike: a horse fed with barley or a knife with a black handle?\"\n\nThe stepmother answered: \"Let the knife with a black handle pierce the\nbreast of thine enemy; but give me the horse fed with barley.\"\n\nThe King's son commanded them to tie the stepmother and her daughter to\nthe tail of a horse, and to hunt them over mountain and rock till\nnothing was left of them but their ears and a tuft of hair.\n\nAfter that the King's son lived happily with his wife and her\nsheep-brother. The others were punished and she rejoiced.\n\nAnd three apples fell down from heaven.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTHE YOUTH WHO WOULD NOT TELL HIS DREAM\n\nThere lived once upon a time a man and wife who had a son. The son arose\nfrom his sleep one morning and said to his mother: \"Mother dear, I had a\ndream, but what it was I will not tell you.\"\n\nThe mother said, \"Why will you not tell me?\"\n\n\"I will not, and that settles it,\" answered the youth, and his mother\nseized him and cudgelled him well.\n\nThen he went to his father and said to him: \"Father dear, I had a dream,\nbut what it was I would not tell mother, nor will I tell you,\" and his\nfather also gave him a good flogging. He began to sulk and ran away from\nhome. He walked and walked the whole day long and, meeting a traveller,\nsaid after greeting him: \"I had a dream, but what it was I would tell\nneither father nor mother and I will not tell you,\" Then he went on his\nway till finally he came to the Emir's house and said to the Emir:\n\"Emir, I had a dream, but what it was I would tell neither father nor\nmother, nor yet the traveller, and I will not tell you.\"\n\nThe Emir had him seized and thrown into the garret, where he began to\ncut through the floor with a knife he managed to get from some one of\nthe Emir's people. He cut and cut until he made an opening over the\nchamber of the Emir's daughter, who had just filled a plate with food\nand gone away. The youth jumped down, emptied the plate, ate what he\nwanted, and crept back into the garret. The second, third, and fourth\ndays he did this also, and the Emir's daughter could not think who had\ntaken away her meal. The next day she hid herself under the table to\nwatch and find out. Seeing the youth jump down and begin to eat from her\nplate, she rushed out and said to him, \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"I had a dream, but what it was I would tell neither father nor mother,\nnor the traveller, nor yet the Emir. The Emir shut me up in the garret.\nNow everything depends on you; do with me what you will.\"\n\nThe youth looked at the maiden, and they loved each other and saw each\nother every day.\n\nThe King of the West came to the King of the East to court the daughter\nof the King of the East for his son. He sent an iron bar with both ends\nshaped alike and asked: \"Which is the top and which is the bottom? If\nyou can guess that, good! If not, I will carry your daughter away with\nme.\"\n\nThe King asked everybody, but nobody could tell. The King's daughter\ntold her lover about it and he said: \"Go tell your father the Emir to\nthrow the bar into a brook. The heavy end will sink. Make a hole in that\nend and send the bar back to the King of the West.\" And it happened that\nhe was right, and the messengers returned to their King.\n\nThe King of the West sent three horses of the same size and color and\nasked: \"Which is the one-year-old, which is the two-year-old, and which\nthe mare? If you can guess that, good. If not, then I will carry off\nyour daughter.\"\n\nThe King of the East collected all the clever people, but no one could\nguess. He was helpless and knew not what to do. Then his daughter went\nto her lover and said, \"They are going to take me away,\" and she told\nhim when and how.\n\nThe youth said: \"Go and say to your father, 'Dip a bundle of hay in\nwater, strew it with salt, and put it near the horses' stall. In the\nmorning the mare will come first, the two-year-old second, the\none-year-old last.'\"\n\nThey did this and sent the King of the West his answer.\n\nHe waited a little and sent a steel spear and a steel shield, and said:\n\"If you pierce the shield with the spear, I will give my daughter to\nyour son. If not, send your daughter to my son.\"\n\nMany people tried, and among them the King himself, but they could find\nno way of piercing the shield. The King's daughter told him of her\nbeloved prisoner, and the King sent for him. The youth thrust the spear\ninto the ground, and, striking the shield against it, pierced it\nthrough.\n\nAs the King had no son, he sent the youth in place of a son to the King\nof the West to demand his daughter, according to agreement.\n\nHe went on and on--how long it is not known--and saw someone with his\near to the ground listening.\n\n\"Who are you?\" the youth asked.\n\n\"I am he who hears everything that is said in the whole world.\"\n\n\"This is a brave fellow,\" said the youth. \"He knows everything that is\nsaid in the world.\"\n\n\"I am no brave fellow. He who has pierced a steel shield with a steel\nspear is a brave fellow,\" was the answer.\n\n\"I am he,\" said the youth. \"Let us be brothers.\"\n\nThey journeyed on together and saw a man with a millstone on each foot,\nand one leg stepped toward Chisan and the other toward Stambul.\n\n\"That seems to me a brave fellow! One leg steps toward Chisan and the\nother toward Stambul.\"\n\n\"I am no brave fellow. He who has pierced a steel shield with a steel\nspear is a brave fellow,\" said the man with the millstones.\n\n\"I am he. Let us be brothers.\"\n\nThey were three and they journeyed on together.\n\nThey went on and on and saw a mill with seven millstones grinding corn.\nAnd one man ate all and was not satisfied, but grumbled and said, \"O\nlittle father, I die of hunger.\"\n\n\"That is a brave fellow,\" said the youth. \"Seven millstones grind for him\nand yet he has not enough, but cries, 'I die of hunger.'\"\n\n\"I am no brave fellow. He who pierced a steel shield with a steel spear\nis a brave fellow,\" said the hungry man.\n\n\"I am he. Let us be brothers,\" said the youth and the four journeyed on\ntogether. They went on and on and saw a man who had loaded the whole\nworld on his back and even wished to lift it up.\n\n\"That is a brave fellow. He has loaded himself with the whole world and\nwishes to lift it up,\" said the youth.\n\n\"I am no brave fellow. He who has pierced a steel shield with a steel\nspear is a brave fellow,\" said the burdened man.\n\n\"I am he. Let us be brothers.\"\n\nThe five journeyed on together. They went on and on and saw a man lying\nin a brook and he sipped up all its waters and yet cried, \"O little\nfather, I am parched with thirst.\"\n\n\"That is a brave fellow. He drinks up the whole brook and still says he\nis thirsty,\" said the youth.\n\n\"I am no brave fellow. He who has pierced a steel shield with a steel\nspear is a brave fellow,\" said the thirsty man.\n\n\"I am he. Let us be brothers.\"\n\nThe six journeyed on together. They went on and on and saw a shepherd\nwho was playing the pipes, and mountains and valleys, fields and\nforests, men and animals, danced to the music.\n\n\"That seems to me to be a brave fellow. He makes mountains and valleys\ndance,\" said the youth.\n\n\"I am no brave fellow. He who has pierced a steel shield with a steel\nspear is a brave fellow,\" said the musical man.\n\n\"I am he. Let us be brothers,\" said the youth.\n\nThe seven journeyed on together.\n\n\"Brother who hast pierced a steel shield with a steel spear, whither is\nGod leading us?\"\n\n\"We are going to get the daughter of the King of the West,\" said the\nyouth.\n\n\"Only you can marry her,\" said they all.\n\nThey went on till they came to the King's castle, but when they asked\nfor the daughter the King would not let her go, but called his people\ntogether and said: \"They have come after the bride. They are not very\nhungry, perhaps they will eat only a bite or two. Let one-and-twenty\novens be filled with bread and make one-and-twenty kettles of soup. If\nthey eat all this I will give them my daughter; otherwise, I will not.\"\n\nThe seven brothers were in a distant room. He who listened with his ear\nto the ground heard what the King commanded, and said:\n\n\"Brother who hast pierced a steel shield with a steel spear, do you\nunderstand what the King said?\"\n\n\"Rascal! how can I know what he says when I am not in the same room with\nhim? What did he say?\"\n\n\"He has commanded them to bake bread in one-and-twenty ovens and to make\none-and-twenty kettles of soup. If we eat it all, we can take his\ndaughter; otherwise, not.\"\n\nThe brother who devoured all the meal that seven millstones, ground\nsaid: \"Fear not, I will eat everything that comes to hand, and then cry,\n'Little father, I die of hunger.'\"\n\nWhen the King saw the hungry man eat he screamed: \"May he perish! I\nshall certainly meet defeat at his hands.\"\n\nAgain he called his people to him and said, \"Kindle a great fire, strew\nit with ashes and cover it with blankets. When they come in in the\nevening they will be consumed, all seven of them.\"\n\nThe brother with the sharp ears said: \"Brother who hast pierced a steel\nshield with a steel spear, do you understand what the King said?\"\n\n\"No; how can I know what he said?\"\n\n\"He said, 'Kindle a fire, strew it with ashes, and cover it with\nblankets, and when they come in in the evening they will be consumed,\nall seven of them.'\"\n\nThen said the brother who drank up the brook: \"I will drink all I can\nand go in before you. I will spit it all out and turn the whole house\ninto a sea.\"\n\nIn the evening they begged the King to allow them to rest in the room\nset apart for them. The water-drinker filled the whole room with water,\nand they went into another.\n\nThe King lost his wits and knew not what to do. He called his people\ntogether, and they said in one voice, \"Let what will happen, we will not\nlet our princess go!\"\n\nThe man with the sharp ears heard them, and said, \"Brother who hast\npierced a steel shield with a steel spear, do you understand what the\nKing said?\"\n\n\"How should I know what he said?\"\n\n\"He said, 'Let what will happen, I will not let my daughter go.'\"\n\nThe brother who had loaded himself with the whole world said: \"Wait, I\nwill take his castle and all his land on my back and carry it away.\"\n\nHe took the castle on his back and started off. The shepherd played on\nhis pipes, and mountains and valleys danced to the music. He who had\nfastened millstones to his feet led the march, and they all went\njoyously forward, making a great noise.\n\nThe King began to weep, and begged them to leave him his castle. \"Take\nmy daughter with you. You have earned her.\"\n\nThey put the castle back in its place, the shepherd stopped playing, and\nmountain and valley stood still. They took the King's daughter and\ndeparted, and each hero returned to his dwelling-place, and he who had\npierced the steel shield with the steel spear took the maiden and came\nagain to the King of the East. And the King of the East gave him his own\ndaughter, whom the youth had long loved, for his wife. So he had two\nwives--one was the daughter of the King of the East, the other the\ndaughter of the King of the West.\n\nAt night, when they lay down to sleep, he said: \"Now, I have one sun on\none side and another sun on the other side, and a bright star plays on\nmy breast.\"\n\nIn the morning he sent for his parents and called also the King to him,\nand said, \"Now, I will tell my dream.\" \"What was it, then?\" they all\nsaid. He answered: \"I saw in my dream one sun on one side of me and\nanother sun on the other, and a bright star played on my breast.\"\n\n\"Had you such a dream?\" they asked.\n\n\"I swear I had such a dream.\"\n\nAnd three apples fell from heaven: one for the story-teller, one for him\nwho made him tell it, and one for the hearer.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTHE VACANT YARD\n\n[_Translated by E.B. Collins, B.S._]\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTHE VACANT YARD\n\n\nSeveral days ago I wished to visit an acquaintance, but it chanced he\nwas not at home. I came therefore through the gate again out into the\nstreet, and stood looking to right and left and considering where I\ncould go. In front of me lay a vacant yard, which was, I thought, not\nwholly like other vacant yards. On it was neither house nor barn nor\nstable: true, none of these was there, but it was very evident that this\nyard could not have been deserted long by its tenants. The house must,\nalso, in my opinion, have been torn down, for of traces of fire, as, for\nexample, charred beams, damaged stoves, and rubbish heaps, there was no\nsign.\n\nIn a word, it could be plainly perceived that the house which once stood\nthere had been pulled down, and its beams and timbers carried away. In\nthe middle of the premises, near the line hedge, stood several high\ntrees, acacias, fig, and plum-trees; scattered among them were\ngooseberry bushes, rose-trees, and blackthorns, while near the street,\njust in the place where the window of the house was probably set, stood\na high, green fig-tree.\n\nI have seen many vacant lots, yet never before have I given a passing\nthought as to whom any one of them belonged, or who might have lived\nthere, or indeed where its future possessor might be. But in a peculiar\nway the sight of this yard called up questions of this sort; and as I\nlooked at it many different thoughts came into my mind. Perhaps, I\nthought to myself, a childless fellow, who spoiled old age with sighs\nand complaints, and as his life waned the walls mouldered. Finally, the\nhouse was without a master; the doors and windows stood open, and when\nthe dark winter nights came on, the neighbors fell upon it and stripped\noff its boards, one after another. Yes, various thoughts came into my\nhead. How hard it is to build a house, and how easy to tear it down!\n\nWhile I stood there lost in thought, an old woman, leaning on a staff,\npassed me. I did not immediately recognize her, but at a second glance I\nsaw it was Hripsime. Nurse Hripsime was a woman of five-and-seventy,\nyet, from her steady gait, her lively speech, and her fiery eyes, she\nappeared to be scarcely fifty. She was vigorous and hearty, expressed\nher opinions like a man, and was abrupt in her speech. Had she not worn\nwomen's garments one could easily have taken her for a man. Indeed, in\nconversation she held her own with ten men.\n\nOnce, I wot not for what reason, she was summoned to court. She went\nthither, placed herself before the judge, and spoke so bravely that\neveryone gaped and stared at her as at a prodigy. Another time thieves\ntried to get into her house at night, knowing that she was alone like an\nowl in the house. The thieves began to pry open the door with a crowbar,\nand when Nurse Hripsime heard it she sprang nimbly out of bed, seized\nher stick from its corner, and began to shout: \"Ho, there! Simon,\nGabriel, Matthew, Stephan, Aswadur, get up quickly. Get your axes and\nsticks. Thieves are here; collar the rascals; bind them, skin them,\nstrike them dead!\" The thieves probably did not know with whom they had\nto deal, and, when at the outcry of the old woman they conceived that a\nhalf-dozen stout-handed fellows might be in the house, they took\nthemselves off. Just such a cunning, fearless woman was Aunt Hripsime.\n\n\"Good-morning, nurse,\" said I.\n\n\"God greet thee,\" she replied.\n\n\"Where have you been?\"\n\n\"I have been with the sick,\" she rejoined.\n\nOh, yes! I had wholly forgotten to say that Nurse Hripsime, though she\ncould neither read nor write, was a skilful physician. She laid the sick\nperson on the grass, administered a sherbet, cured hemorrhoids and\nepilepsy; and especially with sick women was she successful. Yes, to her\nskill I myself can bear witness. About four years ago my child was taken\nill in the dog-days, and for three years my wife had had a fever, so\nthat she was very feeble. The daughter of Arutin, the gold-worker, and\nthe wife of Saak, the tile-maker, said to me: \"There is an excellent\nphysician called Hripsime. Send for her, and you will not regret it.\"\nTo speak candidly, I have never found much brains in our doctor. He\nturns round on his heels and scribbles out a great many prescriptions,\nbut his skill is not worth a toadstool.\n\nI sent for Hripsime, and, sure enough, not three days had passed before\nmy wife's fever had ceased and my children's pain was allayed. For three\nyears, thank God, no sickness has visited my house. Whether it can be\nlaid to her skill and the lightness of her hand or to the medicine I\nknow not. I know well, however, that Nurse Hripsime is my family\nphysician. And what do I pay her? Five rubles a year, no more and no\nless. When she comes to us it is a holiday for my children, so sweetly\ndoes she speak to them and so well does she know how to win their\nhearts. Indeed, if I were a sultan, she should be my vezir.\n\n\"How does the city stand in regard to sickness?\" I asked her.\n\n\"Of that one would rather not speak,\" answered Hripsime. \"Ten more such\nyears and our whole city will become a hospital. Heaven knows what kind\nof diseases they are! Moreover, they are of a very peculiar kind, and\noften the people die very suddenly. The bells fly in pieces almost from\nso much tolling, the grave-diggers' shovels are blunt, and from the\ngreat demand for coffins the price of wood is risen. What will become of\nus, I know not.\"\n\n\"Is not, then, the cause of these diseases known to you?\"\n\n\"Oh, that is clear enough,\" answered Hripsime. \"It is a punishment for\nour sins. What good deeds have we done that we should expect God's\nmercy? Thieves, counterfeiters, all these you find among us. They snatch\nthe last shirt from the poor man's back, purloin trust moneys, church\nmoney: in a word, there is no shameless deed we will not undertake for\nprofit. We need not wonder if God punishes us for it. Yes, God acts\njustly, praised be his holy name! Indeed, it would be marvellous if God\nlet us go unpunished.\"\n\nHripsime was not a little excited, and that was just what I wished. When\nshe once began she could no longer hold in: her words gushed forth as\nfrom a spring, and the more she spoke the smoother her speech.\n\n\"Do you know?\" I began again, \"that I have been standing a long while\nbefore this deserted yard, and cannot recall whose house stood here, why\nthey have pulled it down, and what has become of its inhabitants? You\nare an aged woman, and have peeped into every corner of our city: you\nmust have something to tell about it. If you have nothing important on\nhand, be kind enough to tell me what you know of the former residents of\nthe vanished house.\"\n\nNurse Hripsime turned her gaze to the vacant yard, and, shaking her\nhead, said:\n\n\"My dear son, the history of that house is as long as one of our\nfairy-tales. One must tell for seven days and seven nights in order to\nreach the end.\n\n\"This yard was not always so desolate as you see it now,\" she went on.\n\"Once there stood here a house, not very large, but pretty and\nattractive, and made of wood. The wooden houses of former days pleased\nme much better than the present stone houses, which look like cheese\nmats outside and are prisons within. An old proverb says, 'In stone or\nbrick houses life goes on sadly,'\n\n\"Here, on this spot, next to the fig-tree,\" she continued, \"stood\nformerly a house with a five-windowed front, green blinds, and a red\nroof. Farther back there by the acacias stood the stable, and between\nthe house and the stable, the kitchen and the hen-house. Here to the\nright of the gate a spring.\" With these words Nurse Hripsime took a step\nforward, looked about, and said: \"What is this? the spring gone, too! I\nrecollect as if to-day that there was a spring of sweet water on the\nvery spot where I am standing. What can have happened to it! I know that\neverything can be lost--but a spring, how can that be lost?\" Hripsime\nstooped and began to scratch about with her stick. \"Look here,\" she said\nsuddenly, \"bad boys have filled up the beautiful spring with earth and\nstones. Plague take it! Well, if one's head is cut off, he weeps not for\nhis beard. For the spring I care not, but for poor Sarkis and his family\nI am very sorry.\"\n\n\"Are you certain that the house of Sarkis, the grocer, stood here? I had\nwholly forgotten it. Now tell me, I pray, what has become of him? Does\nhe still live, or is he dead? Where is his family? I remember now that\nhe had a pretty daughter and also a son.\"\n\nNurse Hripsime gave no heed to my questions, but stood silently, poking\nabout with her stick near the choked-up spring.\n\nThe picture of Grocer Sarkis, as we called him, took form vividly in my\nmemory, and with it awoke many experiences of my childhood. I remembered\nthat when I was a child a dear old lady often visited us, who was\ncontinually telling us about Grocer Sarkis, and used to hold up his\nchildren as models. In summer, when the early fruit was ripe, she used\nto visit his house, gather fruit in his garden, and would always come to\nus with full pockets, bringing us egg-plums, saffron apples, fig-pears,\nand many other fruits. From that time we knew Sarkis, and when my mother\nwanted any little thing for the house I got it for her at his store. I\nloved him well, this Sarkis; he was a quiet, mild man, around whose\nmouth a smile hovered. \"What do you want, my child?\" he always asked\nwhen I entered his store.\n\n\"My mother sends you greeting,\" I would answer. \"She wants this or\nthat.\"\n\n\"Well, well, my child, you shall have it,\" he usually answered, and\nalways gave me a stick of sugar candy, with the words, \"That is for you;\nit is good for the cough.\" It never happened that I went out of the\nstore without receiving something from him. In winter-time he treated me\nto sugar candy, and in summer-time he always had in his store great\nbaskets full of apricots, plums, pears, and apples, or whatever was in\nseason in his garden. His garden at that time--some thirty or\nthirty-five years ago--was very famous. One time my mother sent me to\nSarkis's store to procure, as I remember, saffron for the pillau. Sarkis\ngave me what I desired, and then noticing, probably, how longingly I\nlooked toward the fruit-baskets, he said:\n\n\"Now, you shall go and have a good time in my garden. Do you know where\nmy house is?\"\n\n\"Yes, I know. Not far from the Church of Our Lady.\"\n\n\"Right, my son, you have found it. It has green blinds, and a fig-tree\nstands in front of it. Now take this basket and carry it to Auntie, and\nsay that I sent word that she was to let you go into the garden with my\nson Toros. There you two may eat what you will.\"\n\nHe handed me a neat-looking basket. I peeped into it and saw a sheep's\nliver. I was as disgusted with this as though it were a dead dog, for at\nthat time liver-eaters were abhorred not less than thieves and\ncounterfeiters; they with their whole family were held in derision, and\npeople generally refused to associate with them. In a moment I forgot\nentirely what a good man Sarkis was; I forgot his fruit-garden and his\npretty daughter, of whom the good old lady had told me so many beautiful\nthings. The liver had spoiled everything in a trice. Sarkis noticed\nthis, and asked me smiling:\n\n\"What is the matter?\"\n\n\"Have you a dog in your yard?\" I asked, without heeding his words.\n\n\"No,\" he said.\n\n\"For whom, then, is the liver?\"\n\n\"For none other than ourselves. We will eat it.\"\n\nI looked at Sarkis to see if he were jesting with me, but no sign of\njesting was to be seen in his face.\n\n\"You will really eat the liver yourselves?\" I asked.\n\n\"What astonishes you, my boy? Is not liver to be eaten, then?\"\n\n\"Dogs eat liver,\" I said, deeply wounded, and turned away, for Sarkis\nappeared to me at that moment like a ghoul.\n\nJust then there came into the store a pretty, pleasing boy. \"Mamma sent\nme to get what you have bought at the Bazaar, and the hearth-fire has\nbeen lit a long time.\" I concluded that this was Sarkis's son, Toros. I\nperceived immediately from his face that he was a good boy, and I was\nvery much taken with him.\n\n\"Here, little son, take that,\" Sarkis said, and handed him the basket\nwhich I had set down.\n\nToros peeped in, and when he spied the liver he said, \"We will have a\npie for dinner.\" Then he put on his cap and turned to go.\n\n\"Toros,\" called his father to him, \"take Melkon with you to our house\nand play with him as a brother.\"\n\nI was exceedingly pleased with the invitation, and went out with Toros.\nWhen we arrived at Sarkis's house and entered the garden it seemed as\nthough I were in an entirely new world. The yard was very pretty, no\ndisorder was to be seen anywhere. Here and there pretty chickens,\ngeese, and turkeys ran about with their chicks. On the roof sat doves of\nthe best kinds. The yard was shaded in places by pretty green trees, the\nhouse had a pretty balcony, and under the eaves stood green-painted tubs\nfor catching rain-water. In the windows different flowers were growing,\nand from the balcony hung cages of goldfinches, nightingales, and canary\nbirds; in a word, everything I saw was pretty, homelike, and pleasant.\n\nIn the kitchen cooking was going on, for thick smoke rose from the\nchimney. At the kitchen-door stood Sarkis's wife, a healthy,\nred-cheeked, and vigorous woman, apparently about thirty years old. From\nthe fire that burned on the hearth her cheeks were still more reddened,\nso that it seemed, as they say, the redness sprang right out of her. On\na little stool on the balcony sat a little girl, who wore, according to\nthe prevailing fashion, a red satin fez on her head. This was Toros's\nsister. I have seen many beautiful girls in my time, but never a\nprettier one. Her name was Takusch.\n\nGetting the mother's consent, we entered the garden, where we helped\nourselves freely to the good fruit and enjoyed the fragrance of many\nflowers. At noon, Sarkis came home from the store, and invited me to\ndinner. My gaze was continually directed toward the beautiful Takusch.\nOh, well-remembered years! What a pity it is that they pass by so\nquickly! Two or three months later I journeyed to the Black Sea, where I\nwas apprenticed to a merchant, and since that time I have not been in my\nnative city--for some twenty-four years--and all that I have told was\nawakened in my memory in a trice by my meeting with Hripsime.\n\nThe old woman was still standing on the site of the choked-up spring,\nscratching around on the ground with her stick.\n\n\"Nurse Hripsime, where is Sarkis and his family now?\" I asked.\n\n\"Did you know him, then?\" she asked, astonished.\n\n\"Yes, a little,\" I replied.\n\n\"Your parents were acquainted with him?\"\n\n\"No. I was only once in his house, and then as a boy.\"\n\n\"Oh, then! That was his happiest time. What pleasant times we had in his\ngarden! Formerly it was not as it is now--not a trace of their pleasant\ngarden remains. The house has disappeared. Look again: yonder was the\nkitchen, there the hen-house, there the barn, and here the spring.\"\n\nAs she spoke she pointed out with her stick each place, but of the\nbuildings she named not a trace was to be seen.\n\n\"Ah, my son,\" she went on, \"he who destroyed the happiness of these\ngood, pious people, who tore down their house and scattered the whole\nfamily to the winds, may that man be judged by God! He fell like a wolf\nupon their goods and chattels. I wish no evil to him, but if there is a\nGod in heaven may he find no peace in his house, may his children bring\nno joy to him, and may no happiness find its way within his four walls.\nAs he ruined those four poor wretches and was guilty of their early\ndeath, so may he roam over the wide world without rest nor find in sleep\nany comfort! Yes, may his trouble and sorrow increase with the abundance\nof his wealth!\n\n\"I knew Sarkis when he was still a boy. When you knew him he must have\nbeen about forty years old. He was always just as you saw him: reserved,\ndiscreet, pious, beneficent to the poor, and hospitable. It never\noccurred that he spoke harshly to his wife or raised his hand against\nhis children. He was ever satisfied with what he had; never complained\nthat he had too little, or coveted the possessions of others. Yes, a\npious man was Sarkis, and his wife had the same virtues. Early in\nchildhood she lost her parents, and relatives of her mother adopted her,\nbut treated her badly. Yes, bitter is the lot of the orphan, for even if\nthey have means they are no better off than the poor! They said that\nwhen her father died he left her a store with goods worth about 3,000\nrubles, and beside that 2,000 ducats in cash; but he was hardly dead\nwhen the relations came and secured the stock and gold as guardians of\nthe orphan. When she was fourteen years old, one after another wooed\nher, but when the go-betweens found out that there was nothing left of\nher property they went away and let the girl alone.\n\n\"Happily for her, Sarkis appeared, and said: 'I want a wife; I seek no\nriches,' Of course, the relations gave her to him at once, and with her\nall sorts of trumpery, some half-ruined furniture, and a few gold\npieces. 'That is all her father left,' they said, and demanded from him\na receipt for the whole legacy from her father. That was the way they\nshook her off!\n\n\"At that time Sarkis himself had nothing, and was just as poor as his\nwife. He was clerk in a store, and received not more than 150 rubles in\nnotes yearly, which were worth in current money scarcely one-third their\nface value. Yes, they were both poor, but God's mercy is great and no\none can fathom his purposes! In the same year the merchant whom he\nserved suddenly died after making over to Sarkis the whole store and all\nthat was in it, on condition that a certain sum should be paid every\nyear to the widow.\n\n\"Sarkis took the business, and after three years he was sole owner of\nit. He increased it continually, and on the plot of ground he had\ninherited from his father he built a pretty house and moved into it. In\nthe same year God gave him a daughter, whom he named Takusch, and four\nyears later his son Toros came into the world.\n\n\"So these two orphans established a household and became somebodies;\npeople who had laughed at them now sought their society, and began to\nvie with each other in praising Sarkis. But Sarkis remained the same\nGod-fearing Sarkis. He spoke evil of no one, and even of his wife's\nrelatives, who had robbed him, he said nothing. Indeed, when they had\ngone through that inheritance and were in want he even helped them out.\n\n\"As I have said, Sarkis refused no one his assistance, but his wife had\nalso a good heart. The good things she did cannot be told. How often she\nbaked cracknel, cakes, rolls, and sweet biscuit, and sent great plates\nfull of them to those who could not have such things, for she said, 'May\nthose who pass by and smell the fragrance of my cakes never desire them\nin vain.'\n\n\"About this time my husband died--may God bless him!--and I was living\nalone. Sarkis's wife came to me and said, 'Why will you live so lonely\nin your house? Rent it and come to us.' Of course, I did not hesitate\nlong. I laid my things away in a large chest and moved over to their\nhouse, and soon we lived together like two sisters. Takusch was at that\ntime four years old, and Toros was still a baby in arms. I lived ten\nyears at their house, and heard not a single harsh word from them. Not\nonce did they say to me, 'You eat our bread, you drink our water, you\nwear our clothing,' They never indulged in such talk: on the contrary,\nthey placed me in the seat of honor. Yes, so they honored me. And, good\nheavens! what was I to them! Neither mother nor sister nor aunt, in no\nway related to them. I was a stranger taken from the streets.\n\n\"Yes, such God-fearing people were Sarkis and his wife. The poor\nwretches believed that all mankind were as pure in heart as they were. I\nhad even at that time a presentiment that they would not end well, and\noften remonstrated with them, begging them to be on their guard with\npeople. But it was useless for me to talk, for they sang the old songs\nagain.\n\n\"Like a sweet dream my years with the good people passed. Surely pure\nmother's milk had nourished them! I knew neither pain nor grief, nor did\nI think of what I should eat to-morrow, nor of how I could clothe myself.\nAs bounteous as the hand of God was their house to me. Twelve months in\nevery year I sat peacefully at my spinning-wheel and carried on my own\nbusiness.\n\n\"Once during dog-days--Takusch was at that time fifteen years old and\nbeginning her sixteenth year--toward evening, according to an old\ncustom, we spread a carpet in the garden and placed a little table there\nfor tea. Near us steamed and hissed the clean shining tea-urn, and\naround us roses and pinks shed their sweet odors. It was a beautiful\nevening, and it became more beautiful when the full moon rose in the\nheavens like a golden platter. I remember that evening as clearly as\nthough it were yesterday. Takusch poured out the tea, and Auntie Mairam,\nSarkis's wife, took a cup; but as she lifted it to her lips it fell out\nof her hand and the tea was spilled over her dress.\n\n\"My spirits fell when I saw this, for my heart told me that it meant\nsomething bad was coming. 'Keep away, evil; come, good,' I whispered,\nand crossed myself in silence. I glanced at Takusch and saw that the\npoor child had changed color. Then her innocent soul also felt that\nsomething evil was near! Sarkis and Mairam, however, remained in merry\nmood and thought of nothing of that sort. But if you believe not a\nthousand times that something is to come, it comes just the same!\nMairam took her napkin and wiped off her dress and Takusch poured her a\nfresh cup. 'There will come a guest with a sweet tongue,' said Sarkis,\nsmiling. 'Mairam, go and put another dress on. You will certainly be\nashamed if anyone comes.'\n\n\"'Who can come to-day, so late?' said Mairam, smiling; 'and, beside, the\ndress will dry quickly.'\n\n\"Scarcely had she spoken when the garden door opened with a rush and a\ngentleman entered the enclosure. He had hardly stepped into the garden\nwhen he began to blab with his goat's voice like a windmill.\n\n\"'Good-evening. How are you? You are drinking tea? That is very fine for\nyou. What magnificent air you have here! Good-evening, Mr. Sarkis.\nGood-evening, Mrs. Mairam, Good-evening, Hripsime. What are you doing? I\nlike to drink tea in the open air. What a beautiful garden you have.\nDare I taste these cherries? Well--they are not bad; no, indeed, they\nare splendid cherries. If you will give me a napkin full of these\ncherries I will carry them home to my wife. And what magnificent\napricots! Mr. Sarkis, do you know what! Sell me your house. No, I will\nsay something better to you. Come to my store--you know where it\nis--yonder in the new two-storied house. Yes, yes, come over there and\nwe will sit down pleasantly by the desk and gossip about Moscow\nhappenings.'\n\n\"We were as if turned to stone. There are in the world many kinds of\nmadmen, chatterboxes, and braggarts, but such a creature as this I saw\nfor the first time in my life, and do you know who it was? Hemorrhoid\nJack.\n\n\"Have you heard of him? Have you seen this hostage of God? Hripsime\nasked.\n\n\"No, I do not know him,\" I said.\n\n\"What! and you live in our city? Is there anyone who does not know the\nscoundrel? Go to the brokers, and they will tell you many he has thrown\nout of house and home by fraud and hunted out of the city. Have you ever\nseen how a bird-catcher lures the birds into his net--how he whistles to\nthem? That's the way this John gets the people into his traps. To-day he\nwill act as if altogether stupid. To-morrow he is suddenly shrewd, and\nunderstands the business well. Then he is simple again and a pure lamb.\nNow he is avaricious, now generous. And so he goes on. Yes, he slips\naround among the people like a fox with his tail wagging, and when he\npicks out his victim, he fastens his teeth in his neck and the poor\nbeggar is lost. He gets him in his debt and never lets him get his\nbreath between interest payments, or he robs him almost of his last\nshirt and lets him run. But see how I run away from my story!\n\n\"'Good-evening,' said Sarkis, as soon as he perceived Hemorrhoid Jack,\nand offered him his hand. 'What wind has blown you here? Mairam, a cup\nof tea for our honored Mr. John.'\n\n\"'Mr. Sarkis, do you know why I have come to you?' began Jack. 'The\nwhole world is full of your praise; everywhere they are talking about\nyou, and I thought to myself, \"I must go there and see what kind of a\nman this Sarkis is.\" And so here I am. Excuse my boldness. I cannot help\nit: I resemble in no way your stay-at-home.\n\n\"'I am somewhat after the European fashion, you know. Who pleases me, I\nvisit him quite simply. Present myself and make his acquaintance. Then I\ninvite him to my house, go again to his and bring my family with me.\nYes, such a fellow am I, let them laugh at me who will,'\n\n\"'Oh,' I thought, 'poor Sarkis is already fallen into the net, and his\nfamily with him.'\n\n\"Meanwhile, Mairam had poured the tea, placed the cup on a tray, and\nTakusch had put it before Jack.\n\n\"'Where did you buy the tea?' he began, taking the cup. 'When you want\ntea, buy it of me, I pray. You know, I am sure, where my store is. I can\ngive you every desirable brand, and at low price. The tea that cost two\nrubles I will give to you for one ruble ninety-five kopecks. Yes, I will\nsell it to you at a loss. Oh, what bad tea you drink!' At the same time\nhe began to sip and in a moment emptied the cup. 'Be so good as to give\nme another cup,' he said. 'In the fresh air one gets an appetite. If I\nam to enjoy tea-drinking, let me hitch up my carriage and drive out to\nthe Monastery Gardens. There, out-of-doors, I drink two or three glasses\nand settle for them. Yes, such European customs please me,'\n\n\"'May it benefit you!' said Sarkis.\n\n\"'Now, now, Mr. Sarkis, are you coming to my house to-morrow?' asked\nHemorrhoid Jack.\n\n\"'I will see,' answered Sarkis.\n\n\"'What is there to see? If you want to come, come then. We will sit\nbehind the counter, drink our glass of tea, and chat. Now and then, we\nwill talk about European affairs, bookkeeping, news, and other things,'\n\n\"'All right, I shall surely come. I shall not forget.'\n\n\"'Good. And now it is time for me to be gone, for I must make two more\nvisits to-day,' remarked Hemorrhoid Jack.\n\n\"'Do they pay visits at this hour?' responded Sarkis. 'It must be\nnearly ten o'clock. Takusch, get a light.'\n\n\"Takusch went into the room, and soon returned with a light. Sarkis took\nout his watch, and coming near the light said: 'Look, it is already a\nquarter to ten.'\n\n\"John looked, and at once cried out: 'Oh, Mr. Sarkis, what a magnificent\nwatch you have! Where did you get it? It appears to me to be a costly\none. Let me see it.'\n\n\"'This watch I received as a gift from our late Czar. You know that\nseveral years ago our late Czar visited Taganrog. On this occasion the\npeople of Taganrog wished to give him a magnificent horse, but they\ncould not find an appropriate saddle. It happened that I had one that\nwould do, and when they heard of it, they came to me and told me for\nwhat they needed the saddle. Who would not be ready to make such a\nsacrifice for the Czar? Indeed, who would not only sacrifice a costly\nsaddle (and this one was not worth much), but even his life, gladly, if\nneed be? Therefore, I immediately hired a wagon, and taking this\nextraordinary saddle with me and then on to Taganrog to the governor's.\n\n\"'\"Your Highness seeks a saddle?\" I asked.\n\n\"'\"Yes, indeed,\" he answered.\n\n\"'\"Here it is,\" said I.\n\n\"'\"Thank you,\" he said, and pressed my hand. Then he led me into his own\nroom. By George! it looked like one in a king's castle. He had me sit\ndown, served me with tea, invited me to dine at his table: in a word, he\ntreated me well. At my departure, he took out of a drawer a ring set\nwith genuine brilliants, gave it to me, and said, \"Take this from me as\na gift, and what I receive from the Czar I will give to you also.\" And\nhe kept his word. The Czar really came, and they gave him the horse with\nmy saddle. His Majesty thanked me for it and gave me this watch. Look,\nnow, what a beautiful one it is!'\n\n\"'Yes, truly, it is a pretty thing. Show me it again. I wish to see what\nkind of a watch it is,' said Hemorrhoid Jack, examining the watch. 'And\nhave you the ring by you? Can I see it? Oh, let me see what kind of a\nthing it is. I like to see such things, particularly if they come from\npersons of high rank.'\n\n\"'Is the ring not in the chest of drawers?' said Sarkis, looking around\ntoward his wife.\n\n\"'Yes, I keep it there,' answered Mairam, faintly, for she might well\nforesee something evil. 'Who is it routs about in the chest of drawers\nin the night?'\n\n\"'Good Auntie Mairam,' began Jack, in a wheedling tone, 'I beg of you,\nbring the ring, that I may see it. Be so kind! When I see such a rare\nthing my heart leaps in my breast with delight. It is true joy for me to\nhold such things in my hand and look at them. Bring me the ring, I beg\nof you.'\n\n\"I looked at him at that moment, and he seemed to me like a veritable\ngypsy. Had I not been obliged to consider those present, I should\ncertainly have spit in his face, so great was my aversion to this\nscoundrel. Yes, what the proverb says is true: 'If a rich man becomes\npoor, he is scented for years with his wealth; if a poor man grows rich\nhe stinks of poverty for forty years!' That was the way with this\nHemorrhoid Jack. Oh, if it had been in my power I would have seized the\nscoundrel by the collar and thrown him out of the gate. But Sarkis was\nnot of my temperament; he had a gentle heart and was meek as a lamb. I\nwent up to him, pushed his elbow, and whispered:\n\n\"'What are you doing, you good-natured fool? Why did you let him take\nthe watch in his hand? And are you going to show the ring, too? You will\nsee, he has bad intentions. I'll bet my head he will bring misfortune on\nyours. Do you not see his greedy eyes? He will ruin you altogether, you\nand house, and ground,' I said.\n\n\"I had my trouble for my pains. Although a man of ripe years, Sarkis was\nnevertheless like a mere boy, believing all people as honest as\nhimself. Heaven knows! perhaps such a fate was destined for him, and it\nwas impossible for him to get out of the way of misfortune.\n\n\"Mairam brought the ring, and as soon as the scoundrel saw it he grabbed\nit from her hand and put it on his finger.\n\n\"'What a pretty thing it is!' he said, smirking. 'How it glistens! What\na precious ring! What wonderfully beautiful brilliants! What ought I to\ngive you for such a ring? Tell me. It pleases me exceedingly. Yes,\nwithout joking, sell it to me. No, we will arrange it otherwise: I will\ngive you all kinds of goods out of my store at a very low price, yes,\nvery cheap. May the apoplexy strike me if I make anything out of you! I\nwill sell you everything at cost price, and if you wish, will give you\nten kopecks rebate on the ruble.'\n\n\"'No, my dear sir,' said Mairam, embarrassed. 'Can one sell a souvenir\nof the Czar, and one of such great value? We have no occasion to do it.\nWe are no Jews, to sell off everything, to turn into money whatever\ncomes into our hands. Are we such poor beggars that we cannot have\nsomething good and valuable in our chest? No, Mr. John, what you say\nseems to me to be very singular. You are rich, yet you say that you have\nnever in your life seen a gold watch nor a ring set with brilliants. It\nseems to me a fine new custom that one must immediately have what one\nsees. No, dear sir, cast not your eyes upon our property; be content\nwith what you have.'\n\n\"'Mrs. Mairam,' said the scoundrel, smirking, 'why are you so angry? May\none not joke with you?'\n\n\"'A fine joke!' I said, putting in my oar. 'You looked at the trees, and\nyou will at once tear them down. You fell on the fruit like a wolf. You\nsaw the garden, and at once wanted to buy. Now you want the ring, and\nwill exchange for it your wares. What sort of tomfoolery are you talking\nto us? You are either crazy yourself or will make others so. The apple\nfalls not far from the stem--one sees that in you.'\n\n\"'Aunt Hripsime, why are you so cross? Dare one not jest?'\n\n\"'Enough, enough; I understand your joke very well,' I cried\nindignantly.\n\n\"Yes, we women scolded him right well, but Sarkis said no earthly word.\nHe sat there dumb and speechless as the stick in my hand. The Lord God\ngave him a tongue to speak with, but, dear heaven, he sat there like a\nclod and never uttered a syllable. I was like to burst with wrath.\n\n\"Then that unscrupulous fellow repeated his speech. 'Don't you\nunderstand a joke? Have you, then, no sense of fun?' He would have\nstruck us over the ear, and that the fellow called a joke! And how the\ncreature looked! His face was like a drum-skin. It was as though someone\nhad wiped off the holy oil from this grimacing mask with a butcher's\nsponge. Yes, here you see how people become rich; how they get hold of\nother people's property. Conscience hunts the scoundrel to the deuce: he\nlets his skin grow thick; feigns outwardly to be dull; if anyone spits\nin his face he regards it only as a May-shower; if anyone goes for him\nfor his rascality, he takes it as a joke. And so the rascals become\nrich! One must be born to those things, that's the way I see it.\n\n\"If you knew all that we said to this scoundrel's face! We all but\nseized him by the collar and threw him out the gate. We belabored him\nwell, but the fellow stood as if dumb, remained silent, and laughed in\nour faces as if we had been speaking to each other and not to him. He\nneither took the watch out of his pocket nor the ring from his finger.\nFinally, I thought to myself, 'I will wait a little and see what will\nhappen.'\n\n\"And do you know what this bad fellow said to our Sarkis after a short\nsilence? 'Your watch and ring please me well, old fellow. Let me take\nthem for a month or two. I will send them to Moscow and have some like\nthem made for myself. As soon as I get them back I will give them back\nto you unhurt.'\n\n\"Our stupid Sarkis dared not say no, and he had his way.\n\n\"'Take them,' said Sarkis, 'but take care that they do not go astray,\nfor--'\n\n\"'But what are you thinking about?' answered the scoundrel. 'Am I\nthen--. Where do you buy your calico?' the scoundrel began after a\npause. 'How much do you pay an ell? Where do you buy your linen cloth?\nHow high does it come by the ell? Where do you buy your silk and satin?'\n\n\"Heaven knows what all he prated about, and Sarkis answered him and told\neverything just as it really was.\n\n\"'We buy our manufactured goods of Yellow Pogos,' and told the prices\nof everything without reserve.\n\n\"'Have you lost your wits, man?' cried Hemorrhoid Jack. 'Can any man in\nhis full senses buy anything of Yellow Pogos? Don't you know that he is\na swindler? Why don't you buy your goods of me? I will give them to you\ncheaper by half,'\n\n\"To this Sarkis answered, 'When I need something again I will buy it of\nyou.'\n\n\"I knew well enough that Sarkis needed nothing at the time, and that he\nsaid this only to get rid of the fellow. But Jack did not or would not\nunderstand, and began again.\n\n\"'No, do not put it that way,' he said. 'Come to-morrow and pick out\nwhat pleases you. Do not think for a minute that I wish to make money\nout of you. Let the goods lie in your closet, for, between ourselves,\ngoods were very cheap in Moscow this year, and I cleverly threw out my\nline and bought everything at half price. This year is a lucky one for\nmy customers. If one of them will let his goods lie a little while he\nwill certainly double his money on them. Yes, buy, I tell you, but not\nby the ell. Buy by the piece and you will not regret it, I assure you. I\nwill send you in the morning five or six different kinds of goods.'\n\n\"'But why such haste?' said Mairam. 'My chest of drawers is full of\nstuff for clothes, and what I am wearing is still quite new. If we need\nanything we will come to you.'\n\n\"'What are you talking about, Auntie Mairam?' answered Hemorrhoid Jack.\n'Do you not believe me? I tell you, you can get double for the goods,\nand if you cannot use everything yourself, give it to your neighbors.\nYou will do good business. On my word of honor, I swear to you, you will\nmake double on it. Would I lie for the sake of such a trifle? Whom do\nyou think you have here? But that is a small matter: I have still\nsomething better to propose. You must take a shipment of tea from me. In\nthe winter the price will rise, and you can make enormous profits out of\nit. To-morrow I will send you one chest--for the present. Well? Now,\nreally, I will send it to you.'\n\n\"'My dear John,' exclaimed Sarkis, 'you must know how risky it is to\nbegin a new business. I have never handled tea, and the thing appears\nto me somewhat daring. I know no customers for tea, and understand\nnothing about the goods. If it remains lying by me and spoils--'\n\n\"'What empty straw are you threshing now?' cried Hemorrhoid Jack. 'As\nsoon as the people know that you have tea to sell they will of their own\naccord come running into your store. Do you think that you will have to\nlook up customers? In a week or two not a trace of your tea will remain.\nI speak from practical experience. This year little tea has been brought\nfrom Siberia, and what they have brought has almost all fallen into my\nhands. Do not think that I seek a buyer in you! God forbid! When I\nlearned what a good man you were, I thought to myself, \"I must give him\na chance to make something. Yes, I want him to make a few kopecks.\" Do\nyou think I am in need of purchasers? Now, Sarkis, to-morrow I will send\nyou the goods. What?'\n\n\"'By heaven, I know not how I ought to answer you. Do you know, I am\nafraid,' said Sarkis.\n\n\"The poor fellow could say nothing farther, for he was such an honest,\ngood-natured fellow that it was hard for him to refuse anybody anything.\nThe word 'no' did not exist for him.\n\n\"'You are talking nonsense,' began Hemorrhoid Jack anew. 'Give up your\ngrocery and set up a wholesale business. Manage it according to the\nEuropean plan, and you shall see how thankful to me you will be in time.\nDo you believe that I am your enemy? Would I advise you badly? Now, the\nmatter is settled. In the morning I will send you several chests of tea\nand put them in your store. You will find out that Hemorrhoid Jack\nwishes you no ill. Yes, I will say something even better. You know what\nmachorka is?--a cheap tobacco that the poor folk smoke. What do you\nthink of this stuff? Do you think that there is a class of goods more\nprofitable than this? People make thousands from it, and build\nthemselves fine houses. And what expenses have they with it? Put the\ntobacco in an empty stable or shed and it may lie there. A chest of it\nput on sale in your store and I tell you, if you do not make ruble for\nruble out of it, then spit in my face.\n\n\"'Last spring most of this stuff was in the hands of a Cossack. The\nstupid fellow didn't know what he ought to expect for it, and he needed\nmoney--this gander! I brought him home with me; had brandy, bread, and\nham set out; and, after a little talk back and forth, I bought 400\nchests at half price. Half I paid in cash, the rest in eighteen months.\nNow, wasn't that a good trade? If I don't make my 3,000 rubles out of\nit, I shall be a fool. If you like, I will send you some of these goods.\nPut it in your shop or in your shed and let it lie there; it eats and\ndrinks nothing. Now, I tell you, if you do not make 100 per cent, out of\nit, spit in my face. Shall I send you a few chests of it?'\n\n\"'By heaven, I cannot go into it,' answered Sarkis. 'Do you know, I am\nafraid to undertake a new trade? If the stuff does not go off or spoils\non my hands or the price falls, what shall I do? You know that our\ncapital consists of only a few kopecks. We spend as we earn. If I run\nafter the rubles and lose the kopecks thereby, who will give me\nsomething to eat?' concluded the poor wretch, as if he scented some\nevil.\n\n\"But could he free himself from that Satan of a Hemorrhoid Jack? Like a\nleech he had fastened himself on his neck and demanded that he should\nbuy the goods.\n\n\"'Now, Sarkis,' he began again, 'the thing is settled. I am to send you\nin the morning manufactured goods, tea, and tobacco. Well?'\n\n\"'I will see; I must turn it over in my mind,' stammered Sarkis. He\nwanted to be rid of him, but he knew not how to begin.\n\n\"'What does that \"I will see!\" mean? Nothing,' the other continued. 'You\nmay see a thousand times and you will not find again such good goods and\nsuch a favorable opportunity. I speak from experience. You must not let\nthis chance slip by or you will throw gold out of the window with your\nown hands. I am talking about great gains, great profits; do you think\nit is a joke?'\n\n\"'We shall see,' said poor Sarkis. 'We have many days before us. Yes, we\nwill surely do something.'\n\n\"'What you do now is not worth much,' cried Hemorrhoid Jack. 'I see that\nif I leave the thing to your decision, in five years you will not have\nreached one. Isn't that true? In the morning I will send you one load of\ngoods and the rest later.'\n\n\"With these words he seized his cap, quickly made his adieus, and went\naway.\n\n\"It was nearly one o'clock; Mairam and Takusch were sitting there asleep\nand I also was very sleepy, but I fought against my sleepiness to watch\nthat devil of a Hemorrhoid Jack. Mankind can be a priest to\nmankind--also a Satan!\n\n\"When he was in the street, Sarkis said to me: 'What a wonderful\nconversation we have had this evening. Of all this man has said, I\nunderstand nothing. His purposes are not exactly bad, but I don't know\nhow it happens--my heart presages something of evil.'\n\n\"I was just going to answer him when suddenly I sneezed; but only once.\n\n\"'See now,' I said to Sarkis; 'I was right in saying he was going to\ntrick you. Now it has proved itself.'\n\n\"'If one sneezes only once by day that is a bad sign, but at night it\nmeans something good,' he interrupted me.\n\n\"'Oh,' I said, 'do not, I pray, give me lessons; don't teach me what a\nsneeze is the sign of. Whether it is in the daytime or at night it is a\nbad sign, and if one just made up his mind to do anything, he should let\nit drop.'\n\n\"Sarkis would not give in that I was right, but began to chatter about a\nsneeze at night being a good thing. I said no and he said yes, and so it\nwent on until I finally gave it up.\"\n\n\"'Oh, 'I said, 'have your own way, but when misfortune comes to you do\nnot blame me for it.'\n\n\"'I have really begun nothing,' he observed. 'That was only a talk. We\nhave only discussed something. I have really no desire to try my hand\nwith the tea and tobacco.'\n\n\"That he said to me, but heaven only knows! perhaps in his thoughts he\nwas already counting the thousands he hoped to earn. Money has such\npower that my blessed grandmother always said that the devil had\ninvented it. He had racked his brains to find a way to lead mankind into\nwickedness and did not succeed until he invented money. Then he was\nmaster of our souls. How many men money has deprived of reason! Sarkis\nwas not of so firm a mind that he would be able to stand out against\nsuch rosy hopes.\n\n\"The next day, early in the morning, the shop-boy came running into the\nhouse in a great hurry, and said that nine cart-loads of goods were\nstanding at the gate. The man who was in charge of them was asking for\nSarkis.\n\n\"'What kind of an invasion is this!' cried Sarkis. 'I must go and see\nwho it is. Perhaps the loads are not for me at all. God knows for whom\nthey are!'\n\n\"He went out, and we after him. Although I had not seen the loads of\ngoods, I knew the whole story in a moment.\n\n\"Before we had reached the gate a man met us and said:\n\n\"'My master sends you greeting and begs you to take these nine\nwagon-loads of goods and sign for them.'\n\n\"'Who is your master?' we asked, all together.\n\n\"'Hemorrhoid Jack. Don't you know him? He was at your house last\nevening.'\n\n\"I was ready to burst with anger.\n\n\"'You fellow,' I said, 'who told your master to send these goods here?\nHave we ordered anything? Turn at once and get out of the room.'\n\n\"'Is that so!' said the man. 'After a thing is settled you can't take\nback your word. Where shall I put the goods now?'\n\n\"'Where you brought them from, take them back there!'\n\n\"'The coach-house is closed.'\n\n\"'That does not concern us; that is your master's affair.'\n\n\"'If he were here I would tell him, but he is not here.'\n\n\"'Where is he then?' I asked.\n\n\"'He has gone to Taganrog.'\n\n\"'When did he start?'\n\n\"'About two hours ago. He will not be back for two months, for he has\nvery important business in the courts.'\n\n\"It could not be doubted now that this villain of a John had already\nbegun his tricks; but that innocent Sarkis did not see through his\ndevilish purposes. Had I been in his place I would have run immediately\nto the City Hall and told every detail of the business, and the thing\nwould have come out all right. But Sarkis was not the man for that.\n\n\"'Well, if that is the case drive into the yard and unload. The goods\ncannot stand in the street. When Jack comes back from Taganrog I will\narrange things with him in some way.'\n\n\"The wagons came into the yard with a clatter and the driver unloaded\nthe goods and piled them up in the coach-house. I stood as if turned to\nstone and silently watched this move in their game. 'What will come of\nit?' I thought to myself.\n\n\"Ah, but I would rather have died than see what did come of it!\n\n\"When the goods were unloaded the clerk demanded a receipt, which Sarkis\ngave him without hesitation, whereupon the clerk went away satisfied.\n\n\"Later we heard that Jack had not gone to Taganrog at all, and had only\nordered the clerk to say so.\n\n\"That same day when we were sitting at dinner, Sarkis turned to me and\nsaid: 'See, Hripsime, your sneeze has cheated you. Did you not say that\nJack was going to play a trick on me? You see something very different\nhas happened. This forenoon four or five persons came into my shop who\nwished to buy tea and tobacco. I told them the matter was not yet\nsettled; that we had not agreed on the price; as soon as the agreement\nwas made I would begin business. Do you see? I have not advertised that\nI was going to handle the goods, yet everybody knows it and one customer\nafter another comes into my store. How will it be when the goods are put\non sale?--they will fight for them. It will give me a great deal to do;\nI must only go to John and settle on the terms. Yes, little mother, such\na wholesale trade is not to be despised; the wholesaler can often make\nmore money in a moment than the retailer makes in two years. Yes, my\nlove, in business that is really so!'\n\n\"'God grant that it may be so!' I said, and nothing more was said about\nJack.\n\n\"Several months passed by and November came. One evening we were sitting\ntogether chatting comfortably when the door opened softly and an old\nwoman entered. I knew immediately that she was a matchmaker. In three\ndays Takusch was betrothed to a plain, middle-rate man. The wedding was\nto take place the next winter on her father's name-day. As a dowry her\nparents promised 3,000 rubles--1,500 in cash, and the rest in jewels.\n\n\"Tagusch was at that time fifteen years old. Although I had lived in her\nparents' house I had never looked right attentively at her face,\nscarcely knew, in fact, whether she was beautiful or ugly; but when on\nher betrothal day she put on a silk dress and adorned herself as is\ncustomary at such a festive time; when she had put on her head a satin\nfez with gold tassels and a flower set with brilliants, I fairly gaped\nwith admiration. I am almost eighty years old, but in all my life I have\nnever seen a more beautiful girl.\n\n\"I am no dwarf, but she was a few inches taller than I. She was slender\nas a sweet-pine tree. Her hands were delicate and soft, her fingers were\nlike wax. Hair and eyebrows were black, and her face like snow. Her\ncheeks were tinged rose-red, and her glance! that I cannot forget even\nto this day. It was brighter than a genuine Holland diamond. Her\neyelashes were so long that they cast shadows on her cheeks. No, such a\ncharming creature I have never seen in dreams, let alone reality. She\nwas--God forgive my sins--the pure image of the Mother of God in our\nchurch; yes, she was even more beautiful. When I looked at her I could\nnot turn my eyes away again. I gazed at her and could not look enough.\nOn the betrothal day I sat in the corner of the room with my eyes nailed\non Takusch.\n\n\"'How sorry I am,' thought I, 'that you with that angel face are to be\nthe wife of a commonplace man, to be the mother of a family and go into\na dirty, smoky kitchen. Shall your tender hands become hard as leather\nwith washing, ironing, kneading, and who knows what housework beside?\nShall your angel cheeks fade from the heat of the oven and your eyes\nlose their diamond-shine from sewing?' Yes, so thought I, and my heart\nbled within me for this girl who ought to wear a queen's crown and live\nin a palace. Surely, if this rose maiden had lived in olden times she\nwould certainly have married a king or a king's son. And the poor thing\nstood there like a lamb, for she did not understand what life was. She\nthought marriage would be nothing more than a change in her\ndwelling-place. Oh, but I was sorry that evening that she was going to\nmarry only an ordinary, but still eligible, young man, and yet it would\nhave been a great good fortune for her if this had come to pass. Had we\nthought at that time that great misfortunes were in store for the poor\nchild! And that cursed Hemorrhoid Jack was the cause of them all!\n\n\"That betrothal day was the last happy day of the poor wretches. I\nnever afterward saw smiles on their faces, for from that day their\ncircumstances grew worse and worse and their business became very bad.\nThey lost house and ground, moved about for several months from one\nrented house to another, until finally they disappeared from the city.\n\n\"The day after the betrothal Hemorrhoid Jack sent word to Sarkis by his\nclerk that Sarkis must pay 2,700 rubles for the tobacco and tea and 184\nrubles for the manufactured goods. I have forgotten to tell you that\namong the latter were old-fashioned dress-goods, taxed cloth, linen,\nsatin, and some silk. The clerk also said that if Sarkis did not pay the\n184 rubles the ring and watch would be retained.\n\n\"Poor Sarkis was completely dazed.\n\n\"'Have I bought the goods?' he asked.\n\n\"'Certainly you have bought them,' answered the unscrupulous clerk.\n'Otherwise you would not have sold a chest of tea and a bale of tobacco.\nBeside, the coat your boy is wearing was made from our cloth.'\n\n\"This was true. On the third day after receiving the goods, Sarkis had\nsold a bale of tobacco and a chest of tea, and had cut off several yards\nof cloth. It was very singular that in the course of three months Sarkis\nhad not once caught sight of Hemorrhoid Jack to call him to account for\nthe delivery of the goods. He had been several times to his house, where\nthey said, 'He is at the store.' At the store they said Jack was at\nhome. It was very evident that he wished to defraud Sarkis. After much\ntalk back and forth the matter came into the courts, and since Sarkis\nhad sold part of the goods and had given a receipt for them, he had to\npay the sum demanded.\n\n\"For several months past business had been going very badly with the\npoor fellow and he could not raise the required sum, so he had to give\nup his property. First they drove the poor man out of his house and\nemptied his store and his storehouse. Then they sold the tobacco and the\ntea, for which no one would give more than fifty rubles, for both were\nhalf rotten. The store and all that was in it were then auctioned off\nfor a few hundred rubles, and finally the house was offered for sale. No\none would buy it, for among our people the praiseworthy custom rules\nthat they never buy a house put up at auction till they convince\nthemselves that the owner sells it of his own free-will. The household\nfurniture was also sold, and Sarkis became almost a beggar, and was\nobliged, half naked, to leave his house, with his wife and children.\n\n\"I proposed that they should occupy my house, but he would not have it.\n'From to-day the black earth is my dwelling-place,' he said, and rented\na small house at the edge of the town near where the fields begin.\n\n\"When the neighbors found out the treachery of Hemorrhoid Jack, they\nwere terribly angry, and one of them threw a note into his yard in which\nwas written: that if he took possession of poor Sarkis's house they\nwould tear or burn it down. That was just what John wished, and he\nimmediately sent carpenters to tear down the house and stable and then\nhe sold the wood.\n\n\"At this time I became very sick and lay two months in bed. When I got\nup again I thought to myself, 'I must go and visit the poor wretches!' I\nwent to their little house, but found the door locked and the windows\nboarded up. I asked a boy, 'My child, do you know where the people of\nthis house are?' 'Two weeks ago they got into a wagon and drove away,'\nanswered the lad. 'Where are they gone?' I asked. 'That I don't know,'\nhe said.\n\n\"I would not have believed it, but an old woman came up to me on the\nstreet, of her own accord, and said:\n\n\"'They all got into a wagon and have moved away into a Russian village.'\n\n\"What the village was called she could not tell me, and so every trace\nof them was lost.\n\n\"Many years later a gentleman came from Stavropol to our city, who gave\nme some news of the poor wretches. They had settled in a Cossack\nvillage--he told me the name, but I have forgotten--where at first they\nsuffered great want; and just as things were going a little better with\nthem, Mairam and Sarkis died of the cholera and Takusch and Toros were\nleft alone. Soon after, a Russian officer saw Takusch and was greatly\npleased with her. After a few months she married him. Toros carried on\nhis father's business for a time, then gave it up and joined the army.\nSo much I found out from the gentleman from Stavropol.\n\n\"Some time later I met again one who knew Takusch. He told me that she\nwas now a widow. Her husband had been a drunkard, spent his whole nights\nin inns, often struck his poor wife, and treated her very badly. Finally\nthey brought him home dead. Toros's neck had been broken at a horse-race\nand he was dead. He said also that Takusch had almost forgotten the\nArmenian language and had changed her faith.\n\n\"'That is the history of the Vacant Yard.\"\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nARMENIAN POEMS\n\n[_Metrical Version, by Robert Arnot, M.A._]\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nARMENIAN POEMS\n\n\nA PLAINT\n\n    Were I a springtime breeze,\n  A breeze in the time when the song-birds pair,\n  I'd tenderly smooth and caress your hair,\n    And hide from your eyes in the budding trees.\n\n    Were I a June-time rose,\n  I'd glow in the ardor of summer's behest,\n  And die in my passion upon your breast,\n    In the passion that only a lover knows.\n\n    Were I a lilting bird,\n  I'd fly with my song and my joy and my pain,\n  And beat at your lattice like summer-rain,\n    Till I knew that your inmost heart was stirred.\n\n    Were I a winged dream,\n  I'd steal in the night to your slumbering side,\n  And the joys of hope in your bosom I'd hide,\n    And pass on my way like a murmuring stream.\n\n    Tell me the truth, the truth,\n  Have I merited woe at your tapering hands,\n  Have you wilfully burst love's twining strands,\n    And cast to the winds affection and ruth?\n\n    'Twas a fleeting vision of joy,\n  While you loved me you plumed your silvery wings,\n  And in fear of the pain that a man's love brings\n    You fled to a bliss that has no alloy.\n\nMUGURDITCH BESHETTASHLAIN.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nSPRING IN EXILE\n\n  Wind of the morn, of the morn of the year,\n    Violet-laden breath of spring,\n    To the flowers and the lasses whispering\n  Things that a man's ear cannot hear,\n  In thy friendly grasp I would lay my hand,\n  But thou comest not from my native land.\n\n  Birds of the morn, of the morn of the year,\n    Chanting your lays in the bosky dell,\n    Higher and fuller your round notes swell,\n  Till the Fauns and the Dryads peer forth to hear\n  The trilling lays of your feathery band:\n  Ye came not, alas, from my native land.\n\n  Brook of the morn, of the morn of the year,\n    Burbling joyfully on your way,\n    Maiden and rose and woodland fay\n  Use as a mirror your waters clear:\n  But I mourn as upon your banks I stand,\n  That you come not, alas, from my native land.\n\n  Breezes and birds and brooks of the Spring,\n    Chanting your lays in the morn of the year,\n    Though Armenia, my country, be wasted and sere,\n  And mourns for her maidens who never shall sing,\n  Yet a storm, did it come from that desolate land,\n  Would awaken a joy that ye cannot command.\n\nRAPHAEL PATKANIAN.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nFLY, LAYS OF MINE!\n\n  Fly, lays of mine, but not to any clime\n    Where happiness and light and love prevail,\n  But seek the spots where woe and ill and crime\n    Leave as they pass a noisome serpent-trail\n\n  Fly, lays of mine, but not to the ether blue,\n    Where golden sparks illume the heavenly sphere,\n  But seek the depths where nothing that is true\n    Relieves the eye or glads a listening ear.\n\n  Fly, lays of mine, but not to fruitful plains\n    Where spring the harvests by God's benison,\n  But seek the deserts where for needed rains\n    Both prayers and curses rise in unison.\n\n  Fly, lays of mine, but not to riotous halls,\n    Where dancing sylphs supply voluptuous songs,\n  But seek the huts where pestilence appals,\n    And death completes the round of human wrongs.\n\n  Fly, lays of mine, but not to happy wives,\n    Whose days are one unending flow of bliss,\n  But seek the maidens whose unfruitful lives\n    Have known as yet no lover's passionate kiss.\n\n  Fly, lays of mine, and like the nightingales,\n    Whose liquid liltings charm away the night,\n  Reveal in song the sweets of summer's gales,\n    Of lover's pleadings and of love's delight.\n\n  And tell my lady, when your quests are o'er,\n    That I, away from her, my heart's desire,\n  Yearn for the blissful hour when I shall pour\n    Down at her feet a love surcharged with fire.\n\nMUGURDITCH BESHETTASHLAIN.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTHE WOE OF ARAXES\n\n  Meditating by Araxes,\n    Pacing slowly to and fro,\n  Sought I traces of the grandeur\n    Hidden by her turgid flow.\n\n  \"Turgid are thy waters, Mother,\n    As they beat upon the shore.\n  Do they offer lamentations\n    For Armenia evermore?\n\n  \"Gay should be thy mood, O Mother,\n     As the sturgeons leap in glee:\n   Ocean's merging still is distant,\n     Shouldest thou be sad, like me?\n\n  \"Are thy spume-drifts tears, O Mother,\n     Tears for those that are no more?\n   Dost thou haste to pass by, weeping,\n     This thine own beloved shore?\"\n\n   Then uprose on high Araxes,\n     Flung in air her spumy wave,\n   And from out her depths maternal\n     Sonorous her answer gave:\n\n  \"Why disturb me now, presumptuous,\n     All my slumbering woe to wake?\n   Why invade the eternal silence\n     For a foolish question's sake?\n\n  \"Know'st thou not that I am widowed;\n     Sons and daughters, consort, dead?\n   Wouldst thou have me go rejoicing,\n     As a bride to nuptial bed?\n\n  \"Wouldst thou have me decked in splendor,\n     To rejoice a stranger's sight,\n   While the aliens that haunt me\n     Bring me loathing, not delight?\n\n  \"Traitress never I; Armenia\n     Claims me ever as her own;\n   Since her mighty doom hath fallen\n     Never stranger have I known.\n\n  \"Yet the glories of my nuptials\n     Heavy lie upon my soul;\n   Once again I see the splendor\n     And I hear the music roll.\n\n  \"Hear again the cries of children\n     Ringing joyfully on my banks,\n  And the noise of marts and toilers,\n    And the tread of serried ranks.\n\n  \"But where, now, are all my people?\n    Far in exile, homeless, lorn.\n  While in widow's weeds and hopeless,\n    Weeping, sit I here and mourn.\n\n  \"Hear now! while my sons are absent\n    Age-long fast I still shall keep;\n  Till my children gain deliverance,\n    Here I watch and pray and weep.\"\n\n  Silent, then, the mighty Mother\n    Let her swelling tides go free.\n  And in mournful meditation\n    Slowly wandered to the sea.\n\nRAPHAEL PATKANIAN.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTHE ARMENIAN MAIDEN\n\n  In the hush of the spring night dreaming\n    The crescent moon have you seen,\n  As it shimmers on apricots gleaming,\n    Through velvety masses of green.\n\n  Have you seen, in a June-tide nooning,\n    A languorous full-blown rose\n  In the arms of the lilies swooning\n    And yielding her sweets to her foes?\n\n  Yet the moon in its course and the roses\n    By Armenia's maiden pale,\n  When she coyly and slowly discloses\n    The glories beneath her veil.\n\n  And a lute from her mother receiving,\n    With a blush that a miser would move,\n  She treads a soft measure, believing\n    That music is sister to love.\n\n  Like a sapling her form in its swaying,\n    Full of slender and lissomy grace\n  As she bends to the time of her playing,\n    Or glides with a fairy-light pace.\n\n  The lads for her beauty are burning,\n    The elders hold forth on old age,\n  But the maiden flies merrily spurning\n    Youth, lover, and matron and sage.\n\nRAPHAEL PATKANIAN.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nONE OF A THOUSAND\n\n  Sweet lady, whence the sadness in your face?\n  What heart's desire is still unsatisfied?\n  Your face and form are fair and full of grace,\n  And silk and velvet lend you all their pride.\n  A nod, a glance, and straight your maidens fly\n  To execute your hest with loving zeal.\n  By night and day you have your minstrelsy,\n  Your feet soft carpets kiss and half conceal;\n  While fragrant blooms adorn your scented bower,\n  Fruits fresh and rare lie in abundance near.\n  The costly narghil\u00e9 exerts its power\n  To soothe vain longing and dispel all fear:\n  Envy not angels; you have paradise.\n  No lowly consort you. A favored wife,\n  Whose mighty husband can her wants suffice;\n  Why mar with grieving such a fortunate life?\n\n  So to Haripsime, the Armenian maid,\n  On whom the cruel fortune of her lot had laid\n  Rejection of her faith, spake with a sigh\n  The wrinkled, ugly, haggard slave near by.\n\n  Haripsime replied not to the words,\n  But, silent, turned her face away. With scorn\n  And sorrow mingled were the swelling chords\n  Of passionate lament, and then forlorn,\n  Hopeless, she raised her tearful orbs to heaven.\n\n  Silent her lips, her grief too deep for sound;\n  Her fixed gaze sought the heavy banks of cloud\n  Surcharged with lightning bolts that played around\n  The gloomy spires and minarets; then bowed\n  Her head upon her hands; the unwilling eyes\n  Shed tears as heavy as the thunder-shower\n  That trails the bolt to where destruction lies.\n\n  There was a time when she, a happy girl,\n  Had home and parents and a numerous kin;\n  But on an Eastertide, amid a whirl\n  Of pillage, murder, and the savage din\n  Of plundering Kavasses, the Pacha saw\n  Her budding beauty, and his will was law.\n\n  Her vengeful sire fell 'neath a sabre's stroke;\n  Her mother, broken-hearted, gave to God\n  The life in which no joys could now evoke\n  The wonted happiness. The harem of the Turk\n  Enfolds Haripsime's fresh maidenhood,\n  And there where danger and corruption lurk,\n  Where Shitan's nameless and befouling brood\n  Surround each Georgian and Armenian pearl,\n  She weeps and weeps, shunning the shallow joys\n  Of trinkets, robes, of music, or the whirl\n  Of joyous dance, of singing girls and boys,\n  And murmurs always in a sobbing prayer,\n  \"Shall never help be sent? Is this despair?\"\n\nRAPHAEL PATKANIAN.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nLONGING\n\n  Tell me, brother, where is rest\n  From the flame that racks my breast\n          With its pain?\n  Fires unceasing sear my heart;\n  Ah, too long, too deep, the smart\n          To heal again.\n\n  When I'd pluck the roses sweet\n  Sharpest thorns my fingers greet;\n         Courage flies.\n  Since my love has humbled me,\n  Tyrant-like has troubled me,\n         'Spite my cries.\n  Health and joy have taken flight,\n  Prayer nor chant nor priestly rite\n         Do I prize.\n\n  Girl, my girl, my peerless one,\n  Radiant as Armenia's sun,\n         Beautiful Sanan!\n  Earth has none as fair as thou,\n  Nor can ages gone bestow\n         One like my Sanan.\n\n  Sixteen summers old is she,\n  Grace of slender pines has she,\n         Like the stars her eyes.\n  Lips, thrice blessed whom they kiss,\n  Brows as dark as hell's abyss,\n         And with sighs,\n  Her heart to win, her love alone,\n  What mighty prince from his high throne\n         Would not descend?\n  So I crave nor crown nor gold,\n  Longed-for One, I her would hold\n         Till time shall end.\n\nRAPHAEL PATKANIAN.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nDAVID OF SASSUN\n\nNATIONAL EPOS OF ARMENIA\n\n[_Translated by F.B. Collins, B.S._]\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nDAVID OF SASSUN\n\n\nStrong and mighty was the Caliph of Bagdad[1]; he gathered together a\nhost and marched against our Holy John the Baptist[2]. Hard he oppressed\nour people, and led many into captivity. Among the captives was a\nbeautiful maiden, and the caliph made her his wife. In time she bore two\nsons, Sanassar and Abamelik. The father of these children was a heathen,\nbut their mother was a worshipper of the cross[3], for the caliph had\ntaken her from our people.\n\n[1] From the sense and according to the time in which the action takes\nplace, Nineveh must be understood here; and instead of an Arabian\ncaliph, the Assyrian king Sennacherib. There is an anachronism here, as\nthe reader will see, for a king living 800 years before Christ is called\nan Arabian caliph, though the caliphs first took up their residence in\nBagdad in the year 755.\n\n[2] The reference here is to the famous monastery of St. John the\nBaptist, which was built by Gregory the Illuminator during the fourth\ncentury, on the mountain of Kark, near the Euphrates, on a spot where\nheathen altars had previously stood. On certain days pious Armenians\nmade annual pilgrimages to the place. Among them many poets and\nchampions, who, with long fasts and many prayers, begged from the saint\nthe gifts of song, strength, and courage. John the Baptist was regarded\nby the Armenians generally as the protector of the arts.\n\n[3] So the Armenians called Christians.\n\nThis same caliph again gathered together a host and fell upon our\npeople. This time--I bow before thy holy miracle, O sainted John--this\ntime our people pressed him sorely, and in his affliction he cried unto\nhis idols: \"May the gods save me from these people; bring me to my city\nsafe and well, and both my sons will I sacrifice unto them.\"\n\nIn Bagdad the mother lay sleeping, and she had a dream. She dreamed she\nhad in each hand a lamp, and when their flames seemed ready to go out\nthey flashed up brightly again. When morning came she told this dream to\nher sons, and said: \"Last night holy St. John appeared to me in my\ndreams and said that your father was in great trouble and had vowed to\nsacrifice you. When he again comes home he will stab you: look to your\nsafety.\"\n\nBoth sons cried unto their gods, took food with them for their journey,\nput gold into their purses, and set out on their travels. Coming to a\nnarrow valley they halted there. They saw a river, and in the distance a\nbrook clove the river to mid-stream, then mingled with its waters and\nflowed onward with it.\n\nAnd Sanassar said to Abamelik: \"He who finds the source of this brook\nand builds him a dwelling there, his race shall also wax mighty.\"\n\nThe brothers rose with one will and followed the brook upstream. They\nfound its spring and saw its waters flowing as from a small pipe, and\nthey ran down with the brook and increased till they mixed with waters\nof the great river. Here the brothers halted and laid the foundations of\ntheir dwelling.\n\nAnd Sanassar hunted while Abamelik worked on the house. Ten, yea, twenty\ndays they worked on their dwelling. It happened that once Abamelik came\nupon Sanassar asleep, worn out with fatigue, his venison thrown away\nunroasted. Abamelik was much troubled at this, and said, \"Rise, brother,\nand we will depart from this place. How long shall we stay here and eat\nmeat without salt? If it were God's will that we should have happiness,\nin our father's wooden palace we should have found it.\" And they mounted\ntheir horses and rode to the Lord of Arsrom.[4] Both came thither,\npresented themselves to him, and bowed before him.\n\n[4] The original name of this city is Theodosiopol. It was founded by\nthe Greek commander Anato in the year 412 A.D. and named in honor of\nEmperor Theodosius II. Later it was captured by the Sultan of Ikonika,\nWho named it Arsi-Rom, \"Land of the Greeks.\" The Armenians call it\nKarin, after the old Armenian province in which it lies.\n\nNow both brothers were mighty men. They found favor with the Emir of\nArsrom, and he asked them of their birth and of their tribe, and said,\n\"What manner of men are you?\"\n\nSanassar answered and said, \"We are the sons of the Caliph of Bagdad.\"\n\n\"Hoho!\" said the Emir, while terror seized him. \"We feared you dead, and\nhere we meet you living. We cannot take you in. Go whither ye will.\"\n\nAnd Sanassar said to Abamelik, \"Since we have run away from our father,\nwhy should we bear his name? From this day, when anyone asks us\nconcerning ourselves, let us say we have neither father nor mother nor\nhome nor country: then will people lodge us.\"\n\nThence they rode to the Emir of Kars, who gave the lads the same\nanswer. They turned and rode to the King of Kraput-Koch. The King of\nKraput-Koch scrutinized the lads, and they found favor in his sight; and\nAbamelik presented himself to the King and bowed low before him. This\npleased the King greatly, and he said: \"My children, whither came ye?\nWhat have you? and what do you lack?\"[5]\n\n[5] Southwest from the Sea of Wan lies a high mountain called\nKraput-Koch (\"Blue Ridge,\" from its blue color). Probably there was a\ndukedom or kingdom of Kraput-Koch which served as a city of refuge for\nthe wandering Assyrian princes. Perhaps the legend has preserved in the\nperson of the King of Kraput-Koch the memory of the Armenian prince\nSkajordi.\n\n\"We have neither father nor mother nor anyone beside,\" answered the\nbrothers.\n\nAnd it came to pass that Sanassar became the King's _tschubuktschi_[6]\nand Abamelik his _haiwatschi,_[7] and they lived at the King's house a\nlong time.\n\n[6] Pipe-bearer.\n\n[7] The servant who prepares the coffee.\n\nBut Sanassar said one day to Abamelik: \"We fatigued ourselves greatly\nwith labor, yet was our house not finished. To-morrow make the King no\ncoffee, nor will I hand him his pipe. Let us not appear before him\nto-morrow.\"\n\nWhen the King awoke, neither of them was near. He called the lads to him\nand said: \"I asked you once if you had anyone belonging to you, either\nfather or mother; and you said you had no one. Why, then, are you so\nsad?\"\n\nAnd the brothers said: \"Live long, O King! In truth, we have neither\nfather nor mother. Even if we hide it from you we cannot hide it from\nGod. We worked a little on a dwelling, but left the work unfinished and\ncame away.\" And they told the King everything as it was.\n\nThe heart of the King was grieved, and he said: \"My children, if such is\nthe case, to-morrow I will give you some court servants. Go and finish\nyour house.\"\n\nThen the King arose and gave them forty servants, skilful workers, and\neach had a mule and a bridle.\n\nEarly in the morning they arose and loaded the beasts with their tools,\nand the two brothers led them to the dwelling. They travelled on and at\nlast reached the spring and the threshold of their house.\n\nNow Sanassar said to Abamelik: \"Brother, shall we build the house first\nor the huts for the servants? These poor wretches cannot camp out in the\nsun.\"\n\nAnd they began first to make the huts. So strong was Abamelik that he\nbuilt ten huts every day, while the others brought in wood for their\nbuilding. In four days they finished forty huts, and then they set about\nbuilding the house and finished it. They set up stone pillars in\nrows--so powerful were they--and laid a stone base under them, and the\nhouse was made ready.\n\nAbamelik rode to the King of Kraput-Koch and said: \"We are thy children.\nWe have built our castle: it is finished, and we come to you and entreat\nyou, 'Come and give our dwelling a name,'\" It pleased the King of\nKraput-Koch that Abamelik had done this, and he said: \"I rejoice that\nyou have not forgotten me.\"\n\nSo the King gave Abamelik his daughter in marriage and made him his\nclose friend. After the wedding the King and the young pair came\ntogether at the palace--and Uncle Toross[8] was with them--and they\nmounted their horses and departed. Abamelik rode before them to point\nout the way. When they were approaching the castle the King suddenly\nturned his horse as if to ride back again, and said: \"You have given\nyour castle a name and have purposely brought me here to try me.\"\n\n[8] Probably the King's brother.\n\nAbamelik said: \"May your life be long, O master! Believe me, we have\ngiven the castle no name. We have but built it and made it ready.\"\n\n\"Very well. It may be that you have given it no name, but as you have\nset up rows of stone pillars let us call it Sausun or Sassun.\"[9]\n\n[9] \"Sassun\" signifies \"pillar upon pillar.\" This explains the origin of\nthe name of Sassun, a district of the old Armenian province Achznik,\nsouth of the city of Musch. The residents of this district up to the\npresent day owe their independence to their inaccessible dwelling-place.\n\nHere they remained several days. Uncle Toross was also married and\nstayed at Sassun, but the King returned home.\n\nAnd Abamelik was strong and became a mighty man. From the environs of\nthe Black Mountain and the Peak of Zetzinak, from Upper Musch as far as\nSechanssar and the Plains of Tschapachtschur,[10] he reigned, and built\na wall around his dominions. He made four gates. Often he shut his\ndoors, mounted his horse, and captured whatever came in his way, both\ndemons and beasts of prey. Once he penetrated into M\u00f6sr and ravaged it,\nand he went in to the wife of the Lord of M\u00f6sr and lay with her. She\nbore a son, and the King of M\u00f6sr knew that the boy was Abamelik's and\nnamed him M\u00f6sramelik. But afterward Abamelik slew the King and took his\nwife and became King of M\u00f6sr.[11]\n\n[10] The names cited here exist to the present day. The places lie in\nthe old districts of the Turuberan and Achznik in the present district\nMusch.\n\n[11] The Armenians now call Egypt M\u00f6sr. This probably refers to Mossul.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow Sanassar dwelt at Sassun, but the gods of his fathers gave him no\nrepose, so he travelled to Bagdad to the home of his father and mother.\nHis father, sitting at his window, saw his son Sanassar come riding up,\nand recognized him, and the caliph said: \"My life to thee, great god!\nThou hast brought back thy victim. Certainly in thy might thou wilt\nrestore the second soon.\"\n\nThe mother--she was a Christian--began to weep and shed tears over her\nchildren. The father took a sharp sword and went out to meet his son,\nsaying: \"Come, my son, let us worship the great god in his temple. I\nmust sacrifice to him.\"\n\nThe son said, \"Dear father, your god is great and very wonderful. Truly\nin the night he permits us no rest. Certainly he will bring the second\nvictim to you by force.\"\n\nAnd they went into the temple of the god, and the son said: \"Father\ndear, you know that we left your house when we were yet children, and we\nknew not the might of your god.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, my son, but kneel before him and pray.\"\n\nThe son said: \"What a wonderful god your god is! When you bowed before\nyour god, there was a darkness before my eyes and I did not see how you\ndid it. Bow once more before him, that I may learn to worship him.\"\n\nWhen the father did the second time the son cried: \"Bread and wine, the\nLord liveth!\" and seized his club and hurled the caliph full seven yards\ndistant to the ground. And with his club he shattered all the images\nwhere they stood, put the silver in the skirts of his robe and carried\nit to his mother, saying: \"Take this, mother, and wear it for ornament!\"\n\nHis mother fell full length and bowed herself and said: \"I thank thee,\nCreator of heaven and earth. It is well that thou hast rescued me from\nthe hands of this cruel man.\"\n\nThey found Sanassar a wife and placed him on the throne in his father's\nplace, and he remained at Bagdad.[12]\n\n[12] Here the story of Sanassar breaks off and he is not mentioned again\nin the tale.\n\nNow Abamelik, who reigned in M\u00f6sr, left his son M\u00f6sramelik to rule in\nhis stead and went to Sassun. Many years passed and children were born\nto him. To one he gave the name Tschentschchapokrik. The eldest son he\nnamed Z\u00f6ra-wegi, the second Zenow-Owan; while the third son was called\nChor-Hussan,[13] and the youngest David.\n\n[13] All these names are poetic and refer to certain characteristics of\ntheir bearers. \"Zenow-Owan\" means \"melodiously-speaking John\";\n\"Chor-Hussan\" means \"good singer\"; \"Tschentschchapokrik\" means \"sparrow\";\nand \"Z\u00f6ranwegi,\" \"cowardly Wegi.\"\n\nOf these, Tschentschchapokrik and Z\u00f6ranwegi proved to be ne'er-do-weels.\nZenow-Owan had such a voice that he dried seven buffalo hides in the sun\nand wound them round his body so that it should not rend him. But the\ncleverest of all was David, and to his strength words cannot do justice.\n\nAbamelik's life was long, but old age came upon him. Once he sat sunk in\nthought and said to himself: \"Enemies are all about me. Who will care\nfor my children after my death? M\u00f6sramelik alone can do this, for none\nbeside him can cope with my enemies.\"\n\nHe set out to visit M\u00f6sramelik,[14] but he was very aged. \"M\u00f6sramelik, my\nson,\" he said, \"you are truly of my blood. If I die before you, I\nintrust my children to you. Take care of them. If you die first, confide\nyours to me and I will watch over them.\"\n\n[14] To Mossul.\n\nHe returned and lived in his castle. His time came and he died. Then\nM\u00f6sramelik came and took the children to his house, for he had not\nforgotten his father's command. Sassun mourned the death of Abamelik for\nseven years. Then the peasants feasted and drank again with Uncle\nToross, for they said: \"Uncle Toross, our lads have grown old and our\npretty girls are old women. If thou thinkest that by our seven years of\nweeping Abamelik will live again we would weep seven years longer.\"\nUncle Toross gave the peasants their way, and said: \"Marry your lads and\nmaidens. Weeping leads nowhere.\"\n\nAnd they sat down and feasted and drank wine. Uncle Toross took a cup\nin his hand and paused: he was thinking about something, and he neither\ndrank nor set the cup down. His son cries from the street: \"Father,\ndear, there are the mad men of Sassun. Take care, they will be jeering\nat you. Let us go away.\"\n\nUncle Toross turned to his son and said: \"Oh, you dog of a son! Shall I\nsit here and feast? Did not M\u00f6sramelik come and take our children away?\nAbamelik's children in trouble, and I sitting at a banquet? Oh, what a\nshame it is! Bread and wine, God be praised! Truly, I will drink no wine\ntill I have fetched the little ones.\" And Uncle Toross went out of\nSassun and came to M\u00f6sr. He greeted M\u00f6sramelik, and they sat down\ntogether. Said Uncle Toross: \"Now, we are come for God's judgment. It is\ntrue that you made an agreement with Abamelik, but if a man sells a\ncaptive he should first wait on the lord.\"[15]\n\n[15] This means that if a captive is to be sold his kinsmen have a right\nbefore all others to redeem him.\n\nThey arose and went to the court,[16] and Uncle Toross was given the\nchildren.\n\n[16] Schariat, the name of the Turkish court of justice, stands in the\noriginal.\n\nBut M\u00f6sramelik stood in fear of these children, and he said to Uncle\nToross, \"Let these children first pass under my sword, and then take\nthem with you.\"\n\nUncle Toross told the lads of this, and Z\u00f6ranwegi said, \"Let us pass\nunder his sword and escape hence\"; and the other two said the same. But\nDavid said otherwise: \"If he wishes us dead he will not kill us to-day,\nfor the people will say he has murdered the children. Under his sword I\nwill not go. He does this so that I shall not lift my sword against him\nwhen I am a man.\" Uncle Toross got the boys together, that they might\npass under the sword of M\u00f6sramelik, for he was very anxious. David was\nrebellious; he stood still and went not under it. Uncle Toross seized\nhis collar and pushed him, but David would not go. He ran past it at one\nside and kicked with his great toe upon a flint until the sparks flew.\nAnd M\u00f6sramelik was frightened and said: \"This child is still so young\nand yet is terrible. What will happen when he is a man! If any evil\ncomes to me it will be through him.\"\n\nUncle Toross took the children and came to Sassun. Z\u00f6ranwegi he\nestablished in the castle in his father's place, but David, who was the\nyoungest, was sent out to herd the calves.\n\nWhat a boy David was! If he struck out at the calves with his oaken\nstick, he would throw them all down, and forty others beside. Once he\ndrove the calves to the top of the mountain. He found a herdsman there\nwho was abusing his calves, and said: \"You fellow! What are you up to?\nWait now, if I catch you, you will get something from my oaken stick\nthat will make you cry Ow! ow!\"\n\nThe fellow answered David: \"I am ready to give my life for your head if\nI am not a shepherd from your father's village. These calves, here,\nbelong to the peasants.\"\n\nDavid said, \"If that is so, watch my calves also. I know not what time I\nshould drive them home. When the time comes tell me, that I may drive\nthem in.\"\n\nThen David drove in the calves on time that day, and Uncle Toross was\npleased and said: \"Always be punctual, my son; go out and come back\nevery day at the right time.\"\n\n\"Uncle Toross, it was not my wisdom that did this. I have hired a\ncomrade who will watch over my calves and see that I am ready with\nthem.\"\n\nOnce his comrade tarried, and David was greatly vexed. It appeared that\na religious festival was held in the village, and on this account the\nyoung man was detained. Finally he arrived, and David said to him,\n\"To-day you get nothing from me.\"\n\nThe young man said: \"David, I am willing to die for you. From fear of\nyour anger, I waited not for the end of the service of God in the\nchurch, and not one spoonful of the holy soup[17] has passed my lips. I\ndrove out the calves and am here. Now you know why I tarried.\"\n\n[17] Although me Armenians became Christians in the fourth century, they\nstill retain many heathen customs which have lost all their original\nsignificance. They still sacrifice sheep and cows which have on the\nprevious evening been given some salt consecrated by the priests. The\nmeat is cooked in immense kettles and carried around to the houses. The\nshepherd speaks of soup of this kind.\n\nDavid said: \"Wait here; I will bring you your dinner.\"\n\nHe set off with his oaken stick over his shoulder. He came to the\nvillage, and found that all the people had brought corn to the priests,\nwho blessed it. David stuck his oaken stick through the handle of the\nfour-handled kettle, and, full as it was, lifted it to his shoulder and\nwalked away. The priests and the peasants wondered at it, and one cried,\n\"Truly, he has carried off a kettle!\"\n\nA priest cried out, \"For God's sake, be silent! It is one of those mad\nmen of Sassun. Take care or he will come back and break our ribs for us.\nMay he take the thing and fall down with it!\"\n\nAnd David took the kettle of grits to his comrade, whom he found weeping\non the mountain.\n\n\"Ha, ha,\" said David, \"I know why you weep. I have brought the grits,\nbut have forgotten butter and salt. That is why you weep. Eat the grits\nnow, and have salt and butter this evening.\"\n\nBut the youth said. \"David, I am ready to die for you, What need have I\nof salt and butter; forty thieving Dews have come and driven away our\ncalves.\"\n\nDavid said, \"Stay here and watch these calves, and I will bring back all\nthe others\"; and he went after the calves. He followed their tracks to\nthe entrance of a cave and paused. He cried out with so loud a voice\nthat the Dews were frightened, and were as full of fear as is the devil\nwhen Christ's voice is heard in hell.\n\nAnd when the leader of the Dews heard the voice he said: \"That is surely\nDavid, Abamelik's son. Go receive him with honor, else he will strike us\ndead.\"\n\nThey went out, one by one, and David struck each as he passed with his\noaken cudgel, so that their heads fell off and only dead bodies remained\nin the place. He cut off the ears of all the forty and buried them under\na stone at the mouth of the cave.\n\nHe laid down his club and entered the cave. There he saw a heap of gold\nand a heap of silver--indeed, all the treasures of the world. Since his\nfather's death they had robbed and concealed their plunder in this\ncavern. He opened a door, and saw a steed standing fastened to a ring.\nDavid was sunk in thought, and said to himself: \"Uncle dear, this\nproperty belongs to you, but this beast to me. If you give it to\nme--good. If not, you travel after those other fellows.\" Then he\nanswered for Uncle Toross: \"My child, the treasure and the beast should\nbelong to you. What shall I do with them?\"\n\nHe looked around and saw upon a pyre a copper kettle with four handles,\nand in it were his forty calves. He stuck his oaken stick through the\nhandles and raised the kettle, poured off the water, pushed the calves'\nfeet back into the kettle, lifted it to his shoulder, and went back to\nhis comrade.\n\nThe two drove the rest of the herd into the village, and David called\nthe owners to him and said: \"If you deceive my brother a hair's breadth\nin the reckoning it will go badly with you. Sell this kettle. May it\nrepay you for your calves.\"\n\nHe separated his own calves from the peasants', and went home. It was\nthen midday. He said to Uncle Toross: \"Take quickly twenty asses and we\nwill go out and bring back treasure that shall suffice you and your\nchildren till the seventh generation.\"\n\nAnd they took the asses and set forth. When they reached the cavern,\nUncle Toross saw the bodies of the Dews stretched near the entrance, and\nthey were swelled up like hills. In great fright Uncle Toross loosed his\nass from the others and fell back.\n\nDavid said: \"You destroyer! I fled not before them living, but you fear\nthem dead! If you believe me not, turn back and raise this stone. I\nconcealed all their ears there.\"\n\nUncle Toross came back and took the asses, and they went into the cave.\nThey made a pack of all the treasure and carried it away with them.\nDavid said: \"All this treasure belongs to you, but the steed is mine. If\nyou will not give it to me, you shall follow after them.\"\n\nHe answered: \"My child, the horse and the treasure too are yours. What\nshould I do with it?\"\n\nUncle Toross let David mount the steed. He gave him the spurs and he\nbucked to right and left. This was no ordinary steed--the difficulties\nof managing him cannot be described.\n\nThey returned to Sassun with the treasure. David procured a beautiful\nfalcon and rode off to hunt. The calves he had long ago given over.\n\nOnce, as he hunted, he rode across the soil of a poor man, whose family\nnumbered seven heads, and the man had seven beds of millet. Four beds he\nlaid waste, and three remained. Someone ran with the news to the old\ngraybeard and said: \"You are ruined. Go at once to your field, for\nbefore night he will destroy the other three beds.\"\n\nThe graybeard rose early and went out and saw his field was laid waste.\nHe glanced about and saw David coming with a falcon on his hand. The\ngraybeard cursed David and said: \"Dost thou not fear God? Dost thou test\nthy strength on my grain-field? I have seven mouths to fill, and seven\nmillet beds. Four thou hast destroyed, and three remain! If you are\nbrave, go and get back your inheritance that extends from the summit of\nMount Z\u00f6zmak as far as Sechanssar. M\u00f6sramelik has taken it from you and\ndraws wealth from it Go and get it back. Why try your strength on me?\"\n\nBut David answered: \"Old man, curse me not. Here is a handful of\ngold--use it.\" And as he said it he killed his falcon.\n\nDavid returned home and said: \"Uncle Toross, go and bring me my father's\nstaff and bow. I am going to make war, for others consume my inheritance\nand none of you have said anything about it to me.\"\n\nUncle Toross arose and demanded of Z\u00f6ranwegi in David's name the staff\nand bow of Abamelik, but Z\u00f6ranwegi refused it. David sent a second time,\nsaying: \"If you give it to me, good. If not, I will see to it that your\nhead flies off and only your body remains.\"\n\nZ\u00f6ranwegi was frightened, and surrendered the bow and baton, and Uncle\nToross brought them to David. And David fell asleep and dreamed. The\nnext day he took forty calves and went to holy Maratuk,[18] where he\nslaughtered the forty calves and bathed in their blood. Then he fell on\nhis face and prayed and wept until God sent from heaven a sacred sign\nand a token. Even now the holy sign is to be found in Hawar at the house\nof Sork. David kissed the holy sign and put it under the right shoulder,\nand the token under the left.\n\n[18] Maratuk is a monastery built on a mountain of the same name.\n\nM\u00f6sramelik knew that David, Abamelik's son, was come into manhood, and\nhe gathered together a host to march against him. And he appointed a\n_holbaschi_,[19] who prepared his army and attacked David at Maratuk. He\nmet on the march seven women, and said to them, \"Sing and dance until I\nreturn,\" and they answered: \"Why shall we dance and sing? We know not\nwhat we should say.\"\n\n[19] This Turkish title shows that the legend has been altered at a late\ndate.\n\nAnd Holbaschi sang for them:\n\n  \"May the little women busy themselves grinding corn;\n  May the stout women help with the camel-loading;\n  For Holbaschi carries grim war to Sassun.\n  Strong yoke-oxen and red milch-cows he'll bring back\n  In the springtime; butter and Tochorton\n  Will be plentiful in the Land of M\u00f6sr.\"\n\nHolbaschi saw the women begin dancing and singing, and started his host\nagain and went to Maratuk and entered its gates. The daughter of the\npriest of Maratuk had often glanced slyly at David, and he was not\nindifferent to her. The priest's daughter went to David and said:\n\"David, I am ready to die for you! Arise and see how many warriors are\ncongregated in the courtyard.\"\n\nWhen she had spoken she went out and closed all the gates from without.\nDavid stretched himself and cried: \"Bread and wine, the Lord liveth!\"\nand began to knock off the heads of the men of war. He beheaded them so\nthat the bodies flew over the walls and the heads remained lying in the\ncourt. And he laid hold of Holbaschi, and tore out his teeth and drove\nthem into his brow like nails. And he bent his lance till it curved like\na dog's collar and put it around his neck. \"Now,\" he said, \"take\nyourself off and tell all to M\u00f6sramelik. If people still remain in his\ncountry let him herd them together before I come.\"\n\nHolbaschi met the women a second time, and they were singing and\ndancing. And one of them sang:\n\n  \"Holbaschi, dear Holbaschi, went hence like a cruel wolf,\n  Why come you back to us like a hunting dog?\n  Your lance lies on your neck like a dog's collar,\n  Thy mouth gapes like an open window,\n  And slime flows out like curdled milk from a skin;[20]\n  And whole caravans of flies buzz round it.\"\n\n[20] In Armenia, as is usual in the East, they make butter out of\ncurdled milk; and for this reason the vessel is always covered with\nscum.\n\nAnd Holbaschi sang:\n\n  \"Oh, you shameless, worthless hussies,\n  I thought that Sassun was a free field.\n  Think not that only rocks and clefts opposed me.\n  There new-born children are fierce devils,\n  Their arrows like beams of the oil-mill;\n  And like windows they tear out the mouths of their enemies.\n  All the brave lads who went with me\n  Are fallen in Charaman.[21]\n  In the spring its waters will bring you booty,\n  Then your butter and cheese can be made.\"\n\n[21] A valley near Musch.\n\nNow David armed himself and marched against M\u00f6sramelik. He found a great\nhost assembled and encamped near Sechanssar.[22]\n\n[22] Literally, a table-like mountain.\n\nDavid said: \"I promise thee not to give battle till I have eaten rice\npillau in the green and red tent,\" and he urged his horse forward and\nappeared suddenly from the west in front of the tent. Great fright\npossessed the army when they perceived this rider, and Melik said, \"What\nmanner of man art thou?\"\n\n\"I am the son of a western king, and I have come to help you.\"\n\nMelik pitched a tent for him, and they ate together seven days. On the\neighth day David mounted his horse, rode twice before M\u00f6sramelik's tent,\nand said: \"Now, come out, I want to fight you. How long, M\u00f6sramelik, are\nyou going to encroach upon my inheritance?\" And David cried: \"Bread and\nwine, God lives!\" and fighting began on all sides.\n\nUncle Toross heard of the combat. He tore up a poplar by its roots,\nthrew it across his shoulder, and set out. He halted at the upper end of\nthe valley in which the fight was going on. If anyone crept away David\nshouted: \"Dear Uncle Toross, chase him back into the valley and I will\nbe ready for him!\"\n\nAt last the army began to murmur: \"Let them struggle hand to hand. He\nwho overpowers the other has conquered.\"\n\nThen said one of them. \"Sit down, that I may slay you with my club,\" and\nthe other said: \"No, you sit down.\" At last they agreed that David,\nbeing the youngest, should sit, So he put his shield over his head, laid\nunder it the holy cross, and sat down. M\u00f6sramelik made an onset from\nthree leagues, burst upon him, and assailed him with a club, saying,\n\"Earth thou art, be earth again!\"\n\nDavid said: \"I believe in the high and holy cross of Maratuk. It is to\nme as if I were still eating rice pillau under the red and green tent.\"\n\nM\u00f6sramelik sprung upon him three times, struck him with his club, and\nsaid: \"Earth thou art, be earth again!\" and David replied only, \"I\nbelieve in the high and holy cross of Maratuk.\"\n\nThen came M\u00f6sramelik's turn to sit down, and he was stubborn and would\nnot. But the army reproached him and put his shield over his head, and\nhe sat down. Then came M\u00f6sramelik's mother, and began to ask mercy,\nsaying: \"David, I am ready to die for you! Is he not thy brother? Slay\nhim not; have pity on him!\"\n\n\"O shameless woman! When he struck me, thou saidst not, 'Is he not thy\nbrother!' But, may your wish be granted! One blow I will give up for\nGod's sake, the second for your sake, but the third belongs to me, and\nwhen I strike either he dies or lives!\"\n\nDavid rode back and forward again, and seizing his club hurled\nM\u00f6sramelik seven yards deep into the earth. Then he ravaged M\u00f6sr and\nascended the throne.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Emir[23] of Kachiswan had a daughter, and her name was\nChandud-Chanum.[24] Chandud-Chanum heard of David's valor, and gave gifts\nto a bard and said to him: \"Go, sing to David of my beauty, that he may\ncome hither and we may love each other.\"\n\n[23] \"Emir,\" in the eyes of the orientals, is almost the same as \"king.\"\n\n[24] \"Chandud\" is a woman's name. \"Chanum\" means \"lady.\"\n\nThe bard went to Sassun, for he thought David was there. He came to\nSassun and entered Z\u00f6ranwegi's castle, thinking David lived in it, and\nsat down and began to sing to Z\u00f6ranwegi. Z\u00f6ranwegi cried: \"Go. Club him\nand hunt him forth. He thinks to bring David hither by cunning!\"\n\nThey set upon the singer, dragged him to the valley, and threw him into\nthe road. In the evening the shepherds returned on their oxen to the\nvillage. An ox became wild, and the herdsman fell off, and seeking the\ncause he found the bard, who wept and lamented and asked the herdsman:\n\n\"Which of the brothers lives in that castle?\"\n\nThe shepherd answered: \"Here lives Z\u00f6ranwegi; yonder, in M\u00f6sr, David.\"\n\nAnd the bard gave a piece of gold to the shepherds, and they gathered up\nthe pieces of his broken tambur[25] and pointed out his way to him. He\nwent and sang of Chandud-Chanum's beauty before David. David rewarded\nhim richly, and said, \"Go before, I will come,\" and the singer went and\ntold all to Chandud-Chanum.[26]\n\n[25] An instrument like a guitar.\n\n[26] The song in which the bard praises the beauty of Chandud-Chanum is\nwanting. A certain carelessness is seen generally in the rest of the\nnarrative.\n\nDavid departed straightway and went by way of Sassun and the Heights of\nZ\u00f6zmak. He found a plough[27] standing in his way. He freed the oxen,\nseized the plough-chain, mounted his horse, and dragged the plough down.\nAnd it fell from the summit of the Black Mountain plump into the\naqueduct of the village of Marnik.\n\n[27] The Armenians use, in ploughing, a kind of plough which is drawn by\nfrom five to ten pairs of buffaloes or oxen.\n\nHe drew on and perceived that a buffalo had got loose and run along the\nroad and left its dung there. David looked at the dung and said: \"If\nevil befalls me he is guilty of it who left the dung there; if not, it\nis also his work that it befalls me not.\"\n\nFrom a side-path appeared a buffalo, and David had never seen the like\nbefore. He lifted his club to slay him when from the opposite side a\nshepherd came and began to scold the buffalo. David thought the shepherd\nwas scolding him and said, \"Fellow, what have I done to you that you\nrail at me?\"\n\nThe shepherd answered: \"Who are you? Ah, you are a Sassun brawler who\nhas seen nothing of the world! I spoke to my buffalo.\"\n\n\"Don't be angry, youngster! It is a shame, indeed, that in my country I\nhave never seen the like. Are there many such creatures in these parts?\"\n\nThe shepherd said, \"Come, and I will show you.\"\n\nAnd they went to the field of Ausut, where the peasants hitched their\nbuffaloes and drove them. David found the buffaloes with tongues lolling\nfrom the heat as they drew the plough. David felt pity for them; he\nunhitched them and drove them to the pond.\n\nThe ploughman began to curse him, and he said: \"Ploughman, curse me not;\nonly give me the chain into my hand.\"\n\nHe seized the chain and began to draw; the ploughman guided the plough\nand David ploughed nine furrows. Then the shepherd said to David: \"That\nis not thy strength. Leave thy horse and then draw. We shall see whether\nit is thine or thy horse's strength.\"\n\nDavid left his horse and ploughed nine furrows alone.\n\nThe shepherd then said to David: \"It is already noon. Come now and eat,\nthen thou canst go on thy way!\"\n\nDavid answered: \"No, I will ride on. Thy children want to eat, and if I\ncome nothing will remain for them.\"\n\nHowever, they sat down and when the dinner was set out David crumbled\nall the bread and the vessels all at once, and the shepherd said: \"Here,\nhide yourselves or he will devour us also.\"\n\nDavid said: \"Surely, brother, he who drags the plough must eat bread.\nHow could it be otherwise?\"\n\nAnd he went his way to the city where Chandud-Chanum dwelt.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDavid came to the gates of the castle where Chandud-Chanum lived--to the\nplace where all her suitors came to woo. He saw a youth standing near\nthe door with a club in his hand, David said: \"Ha, my lad, what do they\ncall you?\"\n\n\"My name is Gorgis.\"\n\n\"Gorgis!\" said David. \"When I marry Chandud-Chanum you shall be\ngodfather! Now, Godfather Gorgis, who is in the house?\"\n\n\"Matchmakers from the giants--Schibikan of Chorassan and Hamsa of Lori.\"\n\nDavid said, \"Take my horse and fasten him.\" And he took his horse and\ntied him.\n\nThen David asked: \"What kind of a club have you? Show it me.\"\n\nDavid took the club and threw it into the air with such force that it\nis whirring till this very day. Then he said, \"Godfather Gorgis, let us\ngo in and eat and drink.\"\n\nThey went in, and David sat down, for he was tired and hungry, and every\nmatchmaker, one after the other, handed David a cup of wine. David lost\npatience and seized the wine-pitcher and emptied it in one draught,\nsaying, \"Now say only what is well for you!\"\n\nThe wine made David drunk, and when he let his head fall the matchmakers\ndrew their swords to strike him, but when he raised his head they\nconcealed their swords. They began this again when Godfather Gorgis\ncalled out: \"Think not that you are in Georgia! No, this is a dangerous\ncountry.\" And when David heard him he said, \"Now stand bravely at the\ndoor!\"\n\nThe matchmakers sprang up and as they ran each gave Gorgis a box on the\near and escaped. David then turned to Gorgis and said: \"Where can I see\nChandud-Chanum?\"\n\n\"In the garden of the King,\" Gorgis answered. \"To-day is Friday and she\nwill be there. Before her walk twenty slaves, and twenty walk behind\nher. We will go to-day and see her there.\"\n\nSo Gorgis and David went thither and concealed themselves behind the\ngarden wall and waited. The slaves passed by one after another, and,\nwhen Chandud-Chanum came, David put his arm around her neck and kissed\nher three times. Chandud-Chanum said not a word. He kissed her again.\nChandud-Chanum seized him by the collar and threw him against the wall\nso that the blood gushed from his nose.\n\nDavid was angry and was going to mount his horse. \"Godfather Gorgis,\" he\nsaid, \"lead out my horse. I will destroy the city and depart.\"\n\nGorgis began to plead: \"I pray you, put it off till morning. It is dark\nnow. At daybreak arise and destroy the city and depart.\"\n\nDavid lay in bed and could not sleep from anger. \"Would it were dawn\nthat I might rise and destroy the city and get away from here,\" he\nthought to himself.\n\nChandud-Chanum was still walking in the garden. A lame slave came to her\nand said: \"Thy walk will end sadly. Take care, David is going to destroy\nthe city and depart.\"\n\nShe took the cloth in which her evening meal had been brought, and\nwrapped her head in it. She turned and went straightway into the castle\nwhere David was and knocked at his door.\n\nDavid said: \"What insolent people live here! They will not wait till\nmorning, but say, 'Arise, destroy the city and be off!'\"\n\nGorgis arose and looked out of the window and said, \"These are women,\nnot men,\" and they opened the door.\n\nChandud-Chanum came to David and said: \"You kissed me first for the\nfatigue of your journey, a second time for yourself, and a third time\nfor God's sake. Why did you kiss me a fourth time? You are the son of\nyour father and I am the daughter of mine. It has been said: Take to\nyourself a wife that you may have a son who is like his uncle. Do you\nthink you have brought me the heads of the giants Hamsa of Lori and\nSchibikan of Chorassan, that you kiss me a fourth time?\"\n\nDavid's heart softened and he said: \"If that is so I will go out at\ndaybreak and bring you their heads.\" Then he added: \"Very well, I go; if\nthey are stronger than I they will kill me. For God's sake come and seek\nmy body. On the right hand I have a birth-mark--a cross--by that you\nshall know me. Bring my body back and bury it.\"\n\nSo David set out. The giants perceived a rider coming, for the dust from\nhis horse's hoofs rose to heaven: \"This rider comes to fight with us.\nPerhaps he is of the race of Sergo.\"[28]\n\n[28] Sergo-Sarkus (Sergius) so the Kurds called the Christians,\nregarding them as descendants of St. Sergius, who is very popular among\nthe Armenians of Wan and Musch.\n\nThey called to him, saying: \"Ho, fellow! who are you, and whence come\nyou? Do you know Chandud-Chanum? Will you take this ring to her?\"\n\nDavid said: \"Certainly I know her, but I have come to take your heads to\nthe Princess Chandud. I know nothing about your rings!\"\n\nThe eyebrows of Schibikan of Chorassan hung down over his breast and he\nfastened them across his back. Hamsa of Lori had an underlip so long\nthat it reached the ground and swept it.\n\nDavid and the giants began to hack and hew each other and they fought\nwith clubs and bows until night. David cried: \"I believe in the high and\nholy cross of Maratuk,\" and took his sword and cut both their heads off.\nHe bound their hair together and hung them across his horse like saddle\nbags and their tongues furrowed the ground like a plough.\n\nDavid rode away with their heads and had already traversed half the way\nwhen he saw approaching him, riding between heaven and earth, a rider,\nwho called out to him! \"Do you think you have conquered the giants\nSchibikan and Hamsa?\" The rider sprang behind David and struck at him\nwith a club. He crawled under the saddle and the club struck the stirrup\nand tore it loose, and it fell to the ground. David sprang out from\nunder the saddle and cried: \"Bread and wine, as the Lord liveth!\" and\nswung his club over his enemy. The enemy dodged the blow, but his hair\nfell away from his face. David looked and recognized Chandud-Chanum; she\nhad disguised herself and had come to meet him.\n\n\"O shameless woman!\" David said. \"You would disgrace me a second time.\"\n\nThey rode together into Chandud-Chanum's city. They arrived and\ndismounted and called Chandud-Chanum's father. David said to him: \"Will\nyou give me your daughter for a wife?\"\n\nHer father said: \"I will not give her to you. If you will marry her and\nlive here, I will give her to you. If you must take her away, I will not\ngive her. How can I do otherwise? I have enemies all around me; they\nwill destroy my city.\"\n\nAnd David said: \"I will marry her and stay here. I will not take her\naway.\"\n\nSo they were married and celebrated the wedding, feasting seven days and\nseven nights.\n\nThe time passed by unheeded, and when nine months, nine days and nine\nhours had passed, God sent them a son.\n\nAnd David said to Chandud-Chanum: \"If this child is mine, he must have a\nmark--he will show great strength.\" They put the child in\nswaddling-clothes, but instead of bands they bound him with\nplough-chains. He began to cry and stir in his cradle and the chain\nsnapped into pieces.\n\nThey sent word to David: \"The youngster is a stout fellow. He has\nbroken the chains. But one of his hands seems hurt. He clenches his\nfist, and no one can open it.\"\n\nDavid came and sat down, looked at the hand and opened it. In the hand\nhe found a little lump of clotted blood. \"The whole world is to him as a\ndrop of blood, and he will hold it in his hand. If he lives he will do\nwonderful deeds.\"\n\nThen they christened the boy and gave him the name of Mcher.\n\nTime passed and the boy grew fast, and David left him in Kachiswan with\nhis grandparents, and took Chandud-Chanum with him to Sassun. The men of\nChlat[29] heard David's coming and they assembled an army, built a\nrampart, formed their wagons into a fortress, and began to give battle.\nWhen Chandud-Chanum sent her lance against the wall she shattered it and\nthe wagons flew seven leagues away. Then David went forward and drove\nthe fighters away, saying to them: \"Ye men of Chlat! what shameless\npeople ye be! Ye wage war on women! Let me but take my wife to Sassun\nand I will come back, and we will fight it out.\"\n\n[29] The city of Chlat (Turkish \"Achlat\") lies northwest of the Sea of\nWan. In olden times it was famous for its splendor, its high walls, and\nits citadel. The inhabitants had been injured by David's father and\nwished to avenge themselves.\n\nBut the men of Chlat believed him not. \"Swear to us by the holy cross\nyou carry; then we will believe you,\" said they.\n\nDavid touched the token with his hand as he thought, but the cross was\nthere and he knew it not, and the power of the cross was that no one\ncould swear by it.\n\nHe took Chandud-Chanum to Sassun. Here he first knew that he had sworn\non the cross, for he found the cross lying at his left shoulder where\nthe token had been.\n\n\"Now it will go badly with me,\" said David. \"Whether I go or whether I\nstay, it will go badly with me. And I must go.\"\n\nHe advanced, therefore, to give battle, and the men of Chlat pressed him\nsorely. His horse was caught in the reedy marsh of Tschechur.[30] With\ndifficulty he crawled out of the bog and reached the waters of the\nLochur.[31]\n\n[30] A marsh at the outlet of the Kara-Su, a tributary of the Euphrates.\n\n[31] A small river which empties into the Sea of Wan not far from Chlat.\n\nOnce Abamelik had lingered at the house of Ibraham Aga, and forcibly\nentered the sleeping-room of his wife. Her name was Schemschen-Chanum.\nShe had borne a daughter to Abamelik, who was now an ardent Mahometan.\nThis daughter took up her bow and arrows and concealed herself on the\nsloping river-bank. When David bathed in the waters of Locher she shot\nhim, assassin-like, with an arrow in the back. David arose and made a\ngreat outcry and his voice sounded even up to Sassun. Z\u00f6now-Owan,\nChorassan, Uncle Toross, Tsch\u00f6ntschchapokrik, and Z\u00f6ranwegi came\ntogether, for they heard the voice of David. And Z\u00f6now-Owan called to\nhim from Sassun, \"We are coming.\"\n\nAnd they went forth to help David, who heard in the water the voice of\nhis kinsmen. They came to the river and found David, who said:\n\"Z\u00f6now-Owan, she seemed frightened at our calling. Go and find her.\"\n\nAnd they sought and found the blue-eyed maiden. David seized her by one\nfoot, trod on the other, tore her in pieces, and threw her into the\nvillage at the foot of the mountain. From this deed he named the village\nTschiwtis-Tschapkis.[32] The village lies at the mouth of the Tschechur\nand is called Tschapkis to this day.\n\n[32] Literally, \"I will tear in pieces and scatter.\"\n\nThe brothers took David with them and moved on to Sassun. And after four\ndays David died, and his brothers mourned for him. They went to\nChandud-Chanum to console her and wish her long life; but Chandud-Chanum\nsaid, \"Ah, me, after David's death I am but the subject of your scorn.\"\n\nAnd Tsch\u00f6ntschchapokrik said: \"Chandud-Chanum, weep not, weep not. David\nis dead, but my head is still whole.\"\n\nChandud-Chanum climbed the tower and threw herself down. Her head struck\na stone and made a hole in it, and into this hole the men of Sassun pour\nmillet and grind as the people of M\u00f6sr do; and every traveller from M\u00f6sr\nstops there before the castle to see the stone.\n\nThe brothers came to see the body of Chandud-Chanum, and they pressed on\nher breasts and milk flowed therefrom. They said: \"Surely she has a\nchild! If there is a child it must be in Kachiswan.\"[33] And they set out\nfor Kachiswan and said to the governor: \"A child of our brother and\nsister-in-law lives here. Where is it?\"\n\n[33] The small city of Kagisman, not far from Kars.\n\n\"It is not here.\"\n\n\"We have a sign. In the breast of our sister-in-law was milk.\"\n\nThen the governor said: \"She had a daughter, but it is dead.\"\n\n\"We have a test for that also--for our dead. The grave of one dead one\nyear is one step long, of one dead two years, two steps long, and so\non.\"\n\nThey went to the church-yard and found not a single grave which stood\ntheir test.\n\nZ\u00f6now-Owan said: \"Bind leather bands about me. I will cry out.\"\n\nThe truth was, they had dug a cellar for Mcher underground, and hid him\nthere and watched over him.\n\nThe brothers bound Z\u00f6now-Owan about the body and he cried out. Mcher\nknew his voice and would have gone to him, but his grandmother said to\nhim: \"That is not the voice of thy kinsman. It is the noise of children\nand the beating of drums.\"\n\nWhen Mcher heard the voice for the third time he beat down the door and\nwent out. One door destroyed the other. By a blow of his fist he sent\nthe first door against the second, the second against the third, and so\nall seven doors were shattered.\n\nMcher saw his uncles from afar, but his father was not there. He asked,\nand his uncle told him the men of Chlat had slain his father. He fell\nupon his face and wept, and as he lay there his uncles wished to lift\nhim, but exert themselves as they would they could not move him.\n\nThe tears of Mcher furrowed the earth and flowed like a river. After\nthree days he arose, mounted his father's horse, and rode to Chlat. He\ncircled the town and destroyed it--as it is even to this day. Then he\nascended the mountain Memrut[34] and saw the smoke of the ruins grow ever\ndenser. Only one old woman remained alive. He seized her, and, bending\ntwo trees down, bound her feet to the trees and let them loose. And thus\nhe killed her. Since then no smoke ascends from Chlat.\n\n[34] A high mountain not far from Chlat northwest of the Sea of Wan.\nMany interesting legends about it exist. Haik, the ancestor of the\nArmenian Nimrod, is said to be buried here.\n\nMcher permitted his uncles to return to their own dwelling-places and\nhimself rode toward Tosp.\n\nMen say he is still there, and they show his house, and even now water\nflows from the rocks for his horse.\n\nOn Ascension-night the door of Mcher's rock opens. But it is decreed\nthat he shall not go out: the floor holds him not, his feet sink into\nthe earth.\n\nOnce on Ascension-night a shepherd saw Mcher's door open, and the\nshepherd entered. Mcher asked him: \"By what occupation do you live?\"\n\n\"By brains,\" said the shepherd.\n\nThen Mcher said: \"We shall see what kind of brains you have! Take the\nnose-bag of my horse and hang it around his neck.\"\n\nThe shepherd tried with all his might, but could not lift the bag. He\nled the horse to the bag, opened it, and put the straps around the\nhorse's neck. The horse raised his head and lifted the bag. The shepherd\nled him back to his place and said, \"That is the sort of brains by which\nwe live in the world.\"\n\nThen the shepherd said, \"Mcher, when will you leave this place?\"\n\nMcher answered: \"When plum-trees bear wheat and wild-rose bushes barley,\nit is appointed I shall leave this place.\"\n\nAnd three apples fell down from heaven--one for the story-teller, one\nfor the hearer, and the other for the whole world.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTHE RUINED FAMILY\n\nBY\n\nGABRIEL SUNDUKIANZ\n\n\n[_Translated by F.B. Collins, B.S._]\n\n\n\nDRAMATIS PERSONAE\n\nOSSEP GULABIANZ, a merchant.\nSALOME, his wife.\nNATO, his daughter.\nCHACHO, Ossep's aunt.\nGEWO, a merchant, Ossep's friend.\nALEXANDER MARMAROW, a young official.\nBARSSEGH LEPROINK, a merchant.\nKHALI, his wife.\nMOSI, Leproink's relative.\nMICHO, shop-boy at Leproink's.\nDARTSCHO, clerk at Leproink's.\nMARTHA, Salome's friend.\n\nGuests, an executor, his secretary, creditors, witnesses, and several\nservants.\n\nThe scene is Tiflis. The first and third acts take place in Ossep's\nhouse, the second in Barssegh's.\n\n\nTHE RUINED FAMILY\n\n\nACT I\n\n_Well-furnished room with open door in centre and ante-room behind. To\nthe left in foreground a window looking out upon a garden. To the right\na sofa, in front of which is a table. To the left a tachta[35] with a\nketscha[36] and several mutakas.[37] A side door._\n\n[35] Broad, low sofa.\n\n[36] Carpet.\n\n[37] Long, round pillows.\n\n\n\n\nSCENE I\n\n_Salome. Chacho_.\n\n\nSALOME [_from back of stage_]. You're welcome. Come, come, I beg of you.\nDear aunt, how can I thank you for taking the trouble to come here!\n\nCHACHO [_covered by a tschadra[38] enters from the right of the\nante-chamber_]. Good-morning! [_Taking off the tschadra._] Why did you\nsend for me in such haste?\n                    [_Gives one end of the tschadra to Salome_.\n\n[38] A long veil, covering the head and upper part of the body.\n\nSALOME [_taking hold of one end of the tschadra_]. Dear aunt, I am in\nsuch a desperate mood that if someone were to pierce my heart not a drop\nof blood would flow.\n                    [_While she is speaking they fold the tschadra_.\n\nCHACHO. So it seems that it cannot be managed?\n\nSALOME. How could it be managed, dear aunt? They insist upon having\n8,000 rubles. Ossep will not give so much. You know what a miser he is!\n\nCHACHO. Yes, he is really odd.\n\nSALOME. But, dear aunt, God would surely not allow an affair like this\nto come to nothing for the sake of 2,000 rubles. What, am I to let a man\nof such social position and such brilliancy escape me?\n\nCHACHO. Great heaven, how can anyone be so obstinate!\n\nSALOME. That is just why I begged you to come to us. Speak to Ossep\nabout it, and perhaps your words will soften him.\n\nCHACHO. I will talk with him; yes, indeed, I will talk to him. We cannot\nneglect a matter of such importance, my child. [_Lays the tschadra under\nthe tachta covering the ketscha and sits down on it_.] Great heaven, how\nsore the pavement has made my feet!\n\nSALOME [_seating herself on a chair_]. May God reward you, dear aunt!\nMay the Holy Mother be a protectress for your children as you are now\nfor my Nato.\n\nCHACHO. Is not Nato my child also? Is she a stranger to me? I am\naltogether charmed with her beautiful form. But where is the child? Is\nshe not at home?\n\nSALOME. Yes, certainly; she is dressing. You understand, dear aunt, how\nyou are to talk to him? Perhaps you will succeed with him. They expect\nthe final answer to-day; this morning the young man's sister was here,\nand she may be here again any minute.\n\nCHACHO. Don't be afraid, dear child. Calm yourself. Where is Ossep? What\ndoes he think about it?\n\nSALOME. He is busy, but he will be here directly. He says, and insists\nupon it, that he will allow our daughter to marry no one but a business\nman.\n\nCHACHO. He is right, my child; a good business man is worth much. Yes;\nis not one who has money in his pockets the best?\n\nSALOME. Oh, how you talk! What business man is to be compared with\nAlexander Marmarow! Is there any business man worthy to untie his\nshoe-strings? His politeness alone is worth more than ten business men.\nLately he honored us with a visit, and I was so fascinated with his\nmanners! and beside he is still young; is handsome; is educated; has a\ngood position and a good salary and will advance every day--everybody\nsays so. Perhaps some day he will be governor.\n\nCHACHO. That is all very well, dear Salome; but if the thing cannot be\ndone, what then? One must submit, to some extent, to the head of the\nfamily. A good business man never suffers from hunger, and lives without\nwanting anything. I don't know what has gotten into your heads.\nOfficials! always officials!\n\nSALOME. You speak well, dear aunt, but Nato would not marry a business\nman at any price. I would thank God if she would. Would I be so stupid\nas not to be glad of it? The deuce take these times! This comes of too\nmuch study: the girls now mind neither father nor mother!\n\nCHACHO. Yes; how the world has changed! The streams and the hills are\nthe same, but the people are different! But, by the way, Salome, do you\nknow what I have heard? They say that Leproink is trying for him also;\nis that true?\n\nSALOME. Yes, yes, dear aunt, a lot of go-betweens go to his house. But\nGod will surely not let a man like that become his son-in-law while my\ndaughter is left to become the wife of a shopkeeper.\n\nCHACHO. Who would have believed that this Barssegh would have worked\nhimself up like that! Yet God be praised! Perhaps it is the times that\nbring it about. Yesterday or the day before he was a shop-boy at\nBasaschoma,[39] and now! I can picture him as he was then! He wore a\n_tschocha_[40] of green camelot with a narrow purple belt. The wadding\nstuck out at his elbows and his boots were mended in four places. Great\npiles of goods were loaded on the poor devil's shoulders. Many a time,\nwith the yardstick in one hand, he came to our houses with whole pieces\nof calico and got a few pennies from us for his trouble. And now he is a\nman of some importance! Many's the time we gave him a cuff and sent him\nback and forth with his goods. And, Salome, do you know that he lied?\nGod save us from such lies! But what could he do? One would die of\nhunger, to be sure, if one always told the truth.\n\n[39] A bazaar in Tiflis.\n\n[40] A long overcoat.\n\nSALOME. Yes, yes, dear aunt, it is the same Barssegh--whom they all call\n\"Wassil Matwejitsch\" now.\n\nCHACHO. What! have they turned Mathus, his father, into Matjewitsch? Who\nis good enough for them now? Many a time has the cobbler, Mathus, mended\nmy shoes. His workshop was in the Norasch quarter. O good heavens, the\nworld is upside down!\n\n\n\n\nSCENE II\n\n\nNATO [_entering at right_]. Mamma! O aunt, are you here, too?\n                    [_Hugs her and kisses her_.\n\nCHACHO. O my only treasure! [_Kisses her_.] How fresh and pretty you\nare! Where are you going? Are you going out when I have just come?\n\nNATO. What are you saying, dear aunt? I will come back again\nimmediately. I am only going to make a few purchases at the bazaar.\n[_Turning to Salome_] Dear mamma----\n                    [_They begin to speak together in a low tone_.\n\nCHACHO [_aside_]. Yes, yes, her father is right! [_Aloud._] I will go\nand see what the children are doing [_trying to rise_]. Come here, you\npretty rogue, and give me your hand. I feel exhausted.\n                    [_Nato helps her_.\n\nSALOME [_offering her hand_]. Let me help you, too.\n\nCHACHO. May God give you health and a life as long as mine! [_To Nato:_]\nO my heart's angel--if only I have my wish and see you wear the bridal\nwreath!\n\nSALOME. God grant it, dear aunt!\n\nCHACHO. He will, he will, my child! [_Going toward the entrance._] Good\nheaven! how old I have grown!\n                    [_Goes out at the left._\n\n\n\n\nSCENE III\n\n\nNATO. Don't keep me waiting, mamma.\n\nSALOME. And won't a little less satisfy you? Why do you want so much all\nof a sudden?\n\nNATO. But, dear mamma, please; I want it so much!\n\nSALOME [_putting her hand in her pocket_]. I can never get away from\nyou.\n                    [_Takes out her purse and looks for something in it._\n\nNATO [_holding out her hand_]. You have it there, mamma.\n\nSALOME. Have a little patience. [_Takes out some money and gives it to\nher_.] Take it! take it! though I know your father will scold about it.\n\nNATO. But what can I do, when I need it so badly?\n\nSALOME. Need it--nonsense! There is no end of your needs. [_Pulling at\nNato's hat._] How have you put your hat on again? And the flowers are\nall pulled apart.\n                    [_Arranges it._\n\nNATO. Bah! what difference does that make?\n\nSALOME. You're crazy! [_Removes her veil._] How have you put on your\nveil? I must ever and eternally fix something on you!\n\nNATO. You will make me too beautiful, mamma.\n\nSALOME. Whether I make you beautiful or not, it will make no difference.\nYou will be only the wife of a merchant.\n\nNATO. Yes, yes, I have been expecting that!\n\nSALOME. And you really think that your father will ask you?\n\nNATO. And whom should he ask?\n\nSALOME. Think what you will; he will not let his decision be altered by\nyou. He says, \"I will give her only to a business man.\"\n\nNATO. Yes, yes, surely.\n\nSALOME. By heaven!\n\nNATO. Mamma, is what you say true?\n\nSALOME. As true as the sun shines above you. He spoke of it again\nto-day.\n\nNATO. It is decided, then?\n\nSALOME. What am I to do if there is no other way out? You know we have\nnot any too much money.\n\nNATO. And you are going to make a shopkeeper's wife of me, so that\neveryone will laugh at me [_ready to cry_]; so that I shall be an object\nof scorn for all. And why have you had me so well educated? Have I\nlearned Russian and French and piano-playing for a man of that sort?\nWhat does a shopkeeper want of a piano? Pickle-jars and butter-tubs are\nuseful to him, but not my French! I am curious as to how he would speak\nto me: _Moi aller, vous joli tu voir_.\n\nSALOME. Enough! enough! you wild girl!\n\nNATO [_crying_]. It is out of the question, mamma. No, not for the\nworld could I marry a business man! I will not have one! I would rather\njump into the water than marry one! [_Crying, she gives the money\nback_.] Take it back! What do I need it for now? Why should I go out and\nmake purchases? For whom, then?\n                    [_Takes off her mantle, flings her parasol aside, sits\n                         down on the sofa and begins to cry_.\n\nSALOME. O great heaven! is this not torture? I get it on both sides.\n[_Turning to Nato_:] Be still, you stupid girl!\n\nNATO. For this I have learned so much; for this you have brought me up\nso grandly and given yourself so much trouble and care! [_Weeping_.] Is\nhe, also, to take me walking on the boulevard? Is he to accompany me to\nthe club and to the theatre?\n                    [_Sobbing_.\n\nSALOME. Be quiet! Enough! Give yourself no unnecessary heartache.\n\nNATO [_jumps up and embraces Salome_]. Dear, dear mamma! dearest mamma,\nsave me!\n\nSALOME. Oh, rather would your mother be dead than to see this day!\n\nNATO. Dear mamma, save me! save me, or I shall go into consumption! God\nis my witness!\n\nSALOME [_weeping_]. The deuce take everything!\n                    [_Wipes away her tears_.\n\nNATO. Mamma, if you please, I would rather not marry at all. I will\nserve you here at home like a housemaid. Only make them stop this\naffair!\n\nSALOME. That has already happened, my child.\n\nNATO. Dear mamma, please do it.\n\nSALOME. But I tell you, truly.\n\nNATO. Is it really true?\n\nSALOME. As true as the sun shines.\n\nNATO [_kissing Salome_]. O my dear, dear mamma!\n\nSALOME. At last I am rid of you. Your eyes are real tear-fountains. It\nwould not have taken much more to make me cry, too.\n\nNATO [_laughing_]. Ha! ha! ha!\n\nSALOME. You can laugh now.\n\nNATO. Ha! ha! ha! you gave me such a fright!\n\nSALOME. You are terribly flighty. [_Presses the money into her hand_.]\nHere, take it; and do not be too long.\n                    [_Smoothes Nato's hair_.\n\nNATO [_pulling herself away from her mother_]. Very well, mamma.\n                    [_Taking her parasol and mantle_.\n\nSALOME. Wipe your eyes, I pray, or they will laugh at you!\n\nNATO. They are quite dry; and what does anybody care about my eyes?\n                    [_Going._\n\nSALOME. Come back soon; don't allow yourself to be delayed.\n\nNATO. I will come back right away, dear mamma.\n                    [_Goes toward the right into the ante-room._\n\n\n\n\nSCENE IV\n\n\nSALOME [_alone_]. No, there is no other way out. Cost what it will, I\nshall accomplish what I want. Yes, I must, if I am ruined by it. Mother\nof God, plead for my Nato!\n\nOSSEP [_enters, right_]. Where has Nato gone?\n\nSALOME. Just across the way, to the store. She needed some music.\n\nOSSEP. These are fine times for me! And a girl like this is to become a\ngood citizen's wife! [_Sits down on the sofa_.\n\nSALOME [_coming near_]. That is what I say, too, dear Ossep. [_Lays hand\non his shoulder_.] Are you not sorry? Is it not too bad about her?\n\nOSSEP. I am still more to be pitied; but who pities me? SALOME. Shall we\nreally give her to a business man for a wife?\n\nOSSEP. And what else? Is a merchant such a bad fellow? To judge by your\nwords, I also am good for nothing; I who, day and night, worry myself to\nget you bread.\n\nSALOME [_embracing him_]. How can you say such a thing, dear Ossep?\nListen to me; are you not sorry for Nato? It would be quite different if\nshe had been educated as I was.\n\nOSSEP [_smiling_]. Hm! Then she would be the right sort.\n\nSALOME [_draws back her hand_]. You are very polite, really! You laugh\nat poor me! Well, talk as you like, but finish this affair with Nato.\n\nOSSEP. I have already finished it. What will you have of me?\n\nSALOME. How, then? You will not give as much as they demand.\n\nOSSEP. How can I give it when I have not so much?\n\nSALOME [_embracing him_]. Dear Ossep, please do it.\n\nOSSEP. But I cannot do it.\n\nSALOME [_still pleading_]. If you love me only a little bit, you will do\nme this favor.\n\nOSSEP. O woman! Can you not understand at all what yes and no mean? I\ntell you short and plain that I cannot afford to do it. My back is too\nweak to lift such a burden. A man can stretch out his feet in bed only\nas far as the covers reach. Isn't that true? Am I stingy? And would I be\nstingy toward my own child?\n\nSALOME. But in this case no one asks whether we have it or not. Would it\nnot be stupid to have such a lover for your daughter and not sacrifice\neverything for him? Others, indeed, have no great wealth, and yet give\nand are not called crazy.\n\nOSSEP. Perhaps they have stolen money, since it is so easy for them to\ngive it up. However, what is the use of so much talk? Take the cotton\nout of your ears and listen, for, I tell you, I have no money; and I\nrepeat, I have no money. To-day or to-morrow I expect the conclusion of\nimportant business. If it is not completed, I am lost, body and soul.\nAnd you stand before me and torture me by asking me to do what is\nimpossible!\n\nSALOME. But why do you seem so angry? One cannot even open one's mouth\nbefore you.\n                    [_Seats herself sulking on the tachta_.\n\nOSSEP. Yes, I am angry. You women would exasperate an angel, let alone a\nman!\n\nSALOME [_reproachfully_]. Just heaven! with my heart bleeding, I speak\nto you of our daughter and you are angry! You, then, are her father? Let\nus suppose I was dead: would it not be your sacred duty to provide for\nher future?\n\nOSSEP. Am I not providing for her, you wicked woman? Have I not\npresented three or four young persons to you as sons-in-law? For that\nmatter, they would still be very glad to take her. They are young,\nclever, and industrious, and, moreover, persons of our condition in\nlife. But who can be reasonable and speak to you? You have got it into\nyour head that Nato's husband shall be an official, and there you stick.\nIt is not your daughter's future that makes your heart bleed, but your\nown ambition.\n\nSALOME. What more can I say to you? Are they, then, your equals? Who are\nthey, properly speaking? Who are their parents?\n\nOSSEP [_springing up_]. And who are you, then? Whose daughter, whose\nwife are you? Perhaps you are descended from King Heraclius; or perhaps\nyou are the wife of a prince!\n\nSALOME. How the man talks! Were your parents of better rank than mine?\nWhat? Say!\n\n\n\n\nSCENE V\n\n\n_Chacho_.\n\nCHACHO [_enters, left_]. What's all this noise about?\n\nOSSEP. O aunt, you are here?\n\nCHACHO. Yes, it is I, as I love and live. How are you, my son?\n\nOSSEP. Pretty well, thank God. And how are you, aunt?\n\nCHACHO. My dear son, I am very feeble. But what is going on here? They\nmust have heard your voices in the street.\n\nSALOME. Do you not know that married people often have little quarrels?\n\nCHACHO. That I know a hundred times better than you. And only a\nblockhead takes a dispute between man and wife seriously. That is true;\nbut that you two have already had time to get used to each other is also\ntrue.\n\nOSSEP. Sit down, dear aunt. Tell me, rather, whether a wagon can be\nmoved when one ox pulls to the right and the other to the left.\n\nCHACHO. It will not stir from its place any more than I will now.\n[_Sits down with legs planted firmly_.] What can move me away from here?\n\nOSSEP. Now, is it not true? One must help the other, for one alone\ncannot accomplish much, be he ever so strong and ready to work.\n\nSALOME. Oh, yes! and you are the one ready to work and I am the lazy\none, I suppose.\n\nOSSEP. For heaven's sake, do not fly into a passion like that!\n\nCHACHO [_to Salome_]. That was nothing more than a figure of speech. Who\nis accusing you of laziness?\n\nOSSEP [_sitting down_]. Tell me, can we count ourselves among those\npersons who can give their daughter 10,000 rubles for a dowry? Are we\nable to do that?\n\nSALOME. Eight thousand is surely not 10,000.\n\nOSSEP. Both are too much for me.\n\nSALOME. Oh, it is all the same to me; it is not for myself; it is for\nyour daughter.\n                    [_Sits down, ready to cry, upon the sofa_.\n\nOSSEP. It is a beautiful thing, the way you look out for your daughter;\nbut everything has its time and place. We have, remember, two other\ndaughters to provide for.\n\nCHACHO. Dear Ossep, why are you so obstinate?\n\nOSSEP. I am not obstinate; but you two are. Yes, you are obstinate, and\nwill pay no attention at all to what I say.\n\nCHACHO. Since when have you become such a niggard? You should have\neconomized when you gave the sasandars[41] something like ten rubles for\na fee.\n\n[41] Musicians.\n\nOSSEP. Those times have passed and won't come back again, dear aunt. At\nthat time I was able to do it; but not now. Trade is dull and my\nbusiness is going badly.\n\nCHACHO. Possibly with your enemies, dear son; but there is nothing the\nmatter with your business.\n\nOSSEP [_aside_]. There you have it! They insist that I let them inspect\nmy books. [_Aloud_.] Do you know, what, aunt? What I say I first\nconsider, for I do not like to speak to no purpose. If that young man\npleases you and my daughter, and you will have him at all hazards, I\nhave nothing against it. So therefore go to him; and if you can settle\nthe affair with 6,000 rubles, do it. I will gladly make the best of it;\nbut mind, this is my last word, and if you hang me up by the feet, I\nwill not add a single shilling.\n\nCHACHO. What has come over you, Ossep? If you are willing to give 6,000\nrubles, you will surely not let the whole thing go to pieces for the\nsake of 500 or 1,000 more?\n\nOSSEP. Do you know what, aunt? Even if a voice from heaven were to\ndemand it of me, that is my last word. Even if you flayed me alive, I\nwould not give another shilling.\n\nCHACHO. Do not excite yourself, dear son. Let us first see. Perhaps it\ncan be settled with 6,000 rubles.\n\nOSSEP. Yes, to that even I say yes.\n\nSALOME. If a man can give 6,000, he can surely give 1,000 or 2,000 more.\nWhy do you fret yourself unnecessarily?\n\nOSSEP [_aroused_]. God deliver me from the hands of these women! They\nsay that one woman can get the best of two men; and here I am alone and\nfallen into the hands of two of you. Where, then, have you discovered\nthis confounded fellow of a son-in-law? That comes of his visits. What\nhas he to do with us? We are entirely different kind of people. [_To\nSalome_:] He is neither your brother nor your cousin; why, then, does he\ncome running into our house? I believe he has been here as many as three\ntimes. I decline once and for all his visits. May his foot never cross\nmy threshold!\n\nCHACHO. Do not get excited, my son. Do not be vexed.\n\nOSSEP. Now, aunt, you come so seldom to our house, and just to-day you\nhappen in: how does that come?\n\nCHACHO. If you are so vexed about my visit, go down in the cellar and\ncool yourself off a little.\n\nOSSEP. I am a man; do you understand me? If I tell you that I can give\nno more, you should believe me.\n\nCHACHO. We believe it, truly; we believe it, but we must say to you,\nnevertheless, that the dowry that a man gives his daughter means a great\ndeal. It does not mean buying a house, when it is laudable to be\neconomical. No; where the dowry is concerned, a man must think neither\nof his pocket nor of his money-box. You were acquainted with Jegor? Did\nhe not sell his last house and afterward lived like a beggar to give\nhis daughter a proper dowry? When he died, was there not money for his\nburial? That you know yourself very well. Are you any poorer than he,\nthat you grumble like a bear about 2,000 rubles?\n\nOSSEP. O great Heavens! they will bring me to despair yet. Isn't this a\npunishment of Providence, to bring up a daughter, spend a lot of money\non her education, and when you have done everything, then hang a bag of\ngold around her neck, so that she may find someone who is kind enough to\ntake her home with him? A pretty custom!\n\nSALOME. Against the manners and customs of the world you can do nothing,\nhowever.\n\nOSSEP. The devil take your manners and customs! If you hold so fast to\nold ways, then stick to all of them. Is it an old custom to wear,\ninstead of Georgian shoes, little boots--and with men's heels, too? And\nthat a girl should be ashamed to go with her own people and should walk\naround on the arm of a strange young man: is that also one of the good\nold customs? Where can we find anything of the good old manners and\ncustoms of our fathers, in the living or eating or housekeeping, or in\nthe clothing, or in balls and society? What! was it so in old times? Do\nyou still talk about old manners and customs? If once we begin to live\nafter the new fashion, let us follow it in all things. Why do we still\nneed to have bedclothes for twenty-four beds for guests? Why do we use\nthe old cupboard and cake-oven and sofa-cover? Why does one not visit a\nmother with a young baby and stay whole months with them? Why does one\ninvite 100 persons to a wedding and give funeral feasts and let eighty\nwomen mourners come and howl like so many dervishes? And what is that\nyonder [_points to the furniture_]? That one is old-fashioned and the\nothers new-fashioned. If we can have one kind, why do we use the\nother? [_Silent awhile_.\n\nSALOME. Well, well! don't be angry! So you will give 6,000 rubles--you\nhave promised it. What is lacking I will procure.\n\nOSSEP. You will procure it? Where, then, will you get it? Not some of\nyour own dowry, I hope.\n\nSALOME. I had no dowry. Why do you tease me with that? No, everything I\nhave I will sell or pawn. The pearls, my gold ornaments, I will take off\nof my _katiba_. The gold buttons can be melted. My brooch and my\nnecklace, with twelve strings of pearls, I will also sell; and, if it is\nnecessary, even the gold pins from my velvet cap must go. Let it all go!\nI will sacrifice everything for my Nato. I would give my head to keep\nthe young man from slipping through my hands.\n                    [_Exit hastily at left_.\n\n\n\n\nSCENE VI\n\n_Ossep. Chacho_.\n\n\nOSSEP. Have you ever seen anything like it, aunt? I ask you, aunt, does\nthat seem right?\n\nCHACHO. My son, who takes a thing like that to heart?\n\nOSSEP. She is obstinate as a mule. Say, does she not deserve to be\nsoundly beaten, now?\n\nCHACHO. It only needed this--that you should say such a thing! As many\nyears as you have lived together you have never harmed a hair of her\nhead; then all of a sudden you begin to talk like this. Is that\ngenerous?\n\nOSSEP. O aunt! I have had enough of it all. Were another man in my\nplace, he would have had a separation long ago. [_Sits down_.] If she\nsees on anyone a new dress that pleases her, I must buy one like it for\nher; if a thing pleases her anywhere in a house, she wants one in her\nhouse; and if I don't get it for her she loses her senses. It is, for\nall the world, as though she belonged to the monkey tribe. Can a man\nendure it any longer?\n\nCHACHO. The women are all so, my son. Why do you fret yourself so much\non that account?\n\nOSSEP. Yes, yes; you have the habit of making out that all women are\nalike--all! all! If other people break their heads against a stone,\nshall I do the same? No; I do what pleases myself, and not what pleases\nothers.\n\nCHACHO. Ossep, what nonsense are you talking? As I was coming here,\neven, I saw a laborer's wife so dressed up that a princess could hardly\nbe compared with her. She had on a lilac silk dress and a splendid shawl\non her head, fine, well-fitting gloves, and in her hand she held a satin\nparasol. I stood staring, open-mouthed, as she passed. Moreover, she\ntrailed behind her a train three yards long. I tell you my heart was sad\nwhen I saw how she swept the street with that beautiful dress and\ndragged along all sorts of rubbish with it. I really do not see why they\nstill have street-sweepers. It was a long time before I could turn my\neyes from her, and thought to myself, Lord, one can't tell the high from\nthe low nowadays! And what can one say to the others if a laborer's wife\nputs on so much style?\n\nOSSEP. I said that very thing. I have just spoken of it. A new public\nofficial has just arrived. She sees that others want to marry their\ndaughters to him, and she runs, head first, against the wall to get\nahead of them.\n\nCHACHO. You are really peculiar. You have, you say, not enough money to\nprovide a dowry for your daughter, and yet you brought her up and\neducated her in the fashion. For what has she learned to play the piano,\nthen? Consider everything carefully.\n\nOSSEP. Devil take this education! Of what good is this education if it\nruins me? Is that sort of an education for the like of us? Ought we not\nto live as our fathers lived and stay in our own sphere, so that we\ncould eat our bread with a good appetite? What kind of a life is that of\nthe present day? Where is the appetizing bread of earlier times?\nEverything that one eats is smeared with gall! For what do I need a\n_salon_ and a parlor, a cook and a footman? If a man stretches himself\ntoo much in his coat the seams must burst!\n\nCHACHO. If you don't want to have all those things can't you manage the\nhouse another way? Who is to blame for it?\n\nOSSEP. Have I managed it so? I wish he may break his neck who brought it\nall to pass! I haven't done it; it came of itself, and how it happened I\ndon't know Oftentimes when I look back over my early days I see that\nthings were very different twenty years ago. It seems to me I have to\nlive like an ambassador! [_Stands up_.] We are all the same, yes, we all\ngo the same pace. Wherever you go you find the same conditions, and no\none questions whether his means permit it. If a man who has 10,000\nrubles lives so, I say nothing; but if one with an income of 1,000\nrubles imitates him, then my good-nature stops. What are the poorer\npeople to learn from us if we give them such an example? Weren't the old\ntimes much better? In a single _darbas_[42] we all lived together; three\nor four brothers and their families. We saved in light and heat, and the\nblessing of God was with us. Now in that respect it is wholly different.\nIf one brother spends fifty rubles, the other spends double the sum, so\nas not to be behind him. And what kind of brothers are there now, as a\nrule? And what kind of sisters and fathers and mothers? If you were to\nchain them together you could not hold them together a week at a time.\nIf it is not a punishment from God, I don't know what is.\n\n[42] Hall.\n\nCHACHO. My dear Ossep, why do you revive those old memories? It gives me\nthe heartache to recall those old times. I remember very well how it\nwas. In the room stood a long broad sofa that was covered with a carpet.\nWhen evening came there would be a fire-pan lighted in the middle of the\nroom and we children would sit around it That was our chandelier. Then a\nblue table-cloth was spread on the sofa and something to eat, and\neverything that tasted good in those days was placed on it. Then we sat\naround it, happy as could be: grandfather, father, uncle, aunt,\nbrothers, and sisters. The wine pitcher poured out sparkling wine into\nthe glasses, and it wandered from one end of the table to the other.\nMany times there were twenty of us. Now if for any reason five persons\ncome together in a room one is likely to be suffocated. [_Points to the\nceiling_.] With us there was an opening for smoke in the ceiling that\nwas worth twenty windows. When it became bright in the morning the\ndaylight pressed in on us, and when it grew dark the twilight came in\nthere, and the stars glimmered through. Then we spread our bed-things\nout, and we went to sleep together with play and frolic. We had a kettle\nand a roasting-spit in the house, and also a pot-ladle and strainer, and\nthe men brought in the stock of provisions in bags. Of the things they\nbrought, one thing was as appetizing as the other. Now, it seems the\ncooks and servants eat all the best bits. God preserve me from them! Our\nhomes are ruined by the new ways!\n\nOSSEP. Do you know what, aunt? I wager it will not be long before the\nwhole city is bankrupt. On one side extravagance and the new mode of\nlife will be to blame, and on the other our stupidity. Can we go on\nliving so? It is God's punishment, and nothing more. You will scarcely\nbelieve it when I tell you that I pay out ten rubles every month for\npastry for the children alone.\n\nCHACHO. No! Reduce your expenses a little, my son. Retrench!\n\nOSSEP. That is easily said. Retrench, is it? Well, come over here and do\nit. I would like to see once how you would begin. Listen, now! Lately I\nbought a pair of children's shoes at the bazaar for three abaces.[43] The\nlad threw them to the ceiling. \"I want boots at two and a half rubles,\"\nsaid the six-year-old rascal. He was ready to burst out crying. What\ncould I do but buy new ones? If others would do the same I could let the\nyoungster run in cheap boots. How can one retrench here? Twenty years,\nalready, I have struggled and see no way out. To-day or to-morrow my\nhead will burst, or I may beat it to pieces against a stone wall. Isn't\nit an effort at retrenchment when I say that I cannot afford it? but\nwith whom am I to speak here? Does anyone understand me? Yes, reduce\nyour expenses!\n                    [_Goes toward the ante-room to the right and meets Nato\n                         with four sheets of music in her hand_.\n\n[43] Abace--20 kopecks.\n\n\n\n\nScene VII\n\n_Nato, Ossep, Chacho_.\n\n\nOSSEP. Yes, yes, reduce your expenses!\n\nCHACHO. Little girl, how quickly you have come back!\n\nNATO. I did not go far, aunt.\n\nCHACHO. What have you in your hand, sweetheart?\n\nNATO. I have bought some new music.\n\nOSSEP [_stepping up to them_]. Yes, yes, retrench! [_Taking a sheet of\nmusic out of her hand_.] What did you pay for this?\n\nNATO. Four abaces.\n\nOSSEP. And for this [_taking another_]?\n\nNATO [_looking at it_]. Six abaces.\n\nOSSEP [_taking a third_]. And for this?\n\nNATO [_fretfully_]. One ruble and a half.\n\nOSSEP [_taking the last_]. And certainly as much for this?\n\nNATO. No, papa; I paid two rubles and a half for that.\n\nOSSEP [_angrily_]. And one is to economize! Am I to blame for this? What\nhave you bought four pieces for? Was not one or two enough?\n\nNATO [_frightened_]. I need them.\n\nOSSEP [_still more angrily_]. Tell me one thing--is this to be endured?\nIf she could play properly at least, but she only drums two or three\npieces and says she can play. I cannot play myself, but I have heard\npersons who played well. They could use these things, but not we. I wish\nthe devil had the man who introduced this! [_Throws the music on the\nfloor_.] I'll cut off my hand if she can play properly.\n\nCHACHO. There, there, stop, now!\n\nOSSEP. Whatever she tries to do is only half done: music, languages--she\nhas only half learned. Tell me, what can she do? Is she able to sew\nanything? or to cut out a dress for herself? Yes, that one seems like a\nEuropean girl! Ha! ha! Five times I have been in Leipsic, and the\ndaughter of the merest pauper there can do more than she can. What have\nI not seen in the way of needlework! I gaped with admiration. And she\ncannot even speak Armenian properly, and that is her mother tongue! Can\nshe write a page without mistakes? Can she pronounce ten French words\nfluently? Yes, tell me, what can she do? What does she understand? She\nwill make a fine housekeeper for you! The man who takes her for his wife\nis to be pitied. She be able to share with him the troubles of life!\nSome day or other she will be a mother and must bring up children. Ha,\nha! they will have a fine bringing-up! She is here to make a show; but\nfor nothing beside! She is an adept at spending money. Yes, give her\nmoney, money, so that she can rig herself out and go to balls and\nparties! [_Nato cries._] Can I stand this any longer? Can I go on with\nthese doings? Retrench, you say. What is this [_taking a corner of\nNato's tunic in his hand_]? How is this for a twelve-story building?\nDoes it warm the back? How am I to reduce expenses here? And if I do it,\nwill others do it also? I'd like to see the man who could do it!\n                    [_Nato still crying._\n\nCHACHO.\nDo all these things you have said in my presence amount to anything? You\nyourself said that you troubled yourself little about what others did.\nWhat do you want, then? Why should you poison the heart of this innocent\ngirl?\n                    [_All are silent awhile._\n\nOSSEP [_lays his hand on his forehead and recovers himself._] O just\nheaven, what am I doing? I am beside myself. [_Goes up to Nato._] Not to\nyou, not to you, my Nato, should I say all this! [_Embraces her._] No,\nyou do not deserve it; you are innocent. We are to blame for all. I am\nto blame, I! because I imitated the others and brought you up as others\nbrought up their daughters. Don't cry! I did not wish to hurt you. I was\nin bad humor, for everything has vexed me to-day, and unfortunately you\ncame in at the wrong moment. [_Picks up the music and gives it to her._]\nHere, take the music, my child. [_Embraces her again._] Go and buy some\nmore. Do what you wish everywhere, and be behind no one. Until to-day\nyou have wanted nothing, and, with God's help, you shall want nothing in\nthe future.\n                    [_Kisses her and turns to go._\n\nCHACHO. Now, Ossep, think it over; come to some decision in the matter.\n\nOSSEP. I should like to, indeed; but what I cannot do I cannot do.\n                    [_Goes off at the right._\n\n\n\n\nSCENE VIII\n\n_Nato, Chacho, then Salome_.\n\n\nNATO [_falling sobbing in Chacho's arms_]. O dear, dear aunt.\n\nCHACHO. Stop; don't cry, my dear, my precious child. It is indeed your\nfather. Stop; stop, Salome.\n\nSALOME [_coming in smiling_]. Dear aunt, I have arranged everything.\n[_Stops._] What is this now? Why are you crying?\n                    [_Nato wipes away her tears and goes toward the divan_.\n\nCHACHO. You know her father, don't you? He has been scolding her, and\nhas made her cry.\n\nSALOME. If her father has been troubling her, then I will make her happy\nagain. Nato, dear, I have betrothed you. [_Nato looks at her in\nwonderment._] Yes, my love, be happy--what have you to say about it? Mr.\nAlexander Marmarow is now your betrothed.\n\nNATO. Is it really true, mamma dear?\n\nCHACHO [_at the same time_]. Is it true?\n\nSALOME. It is true, be assured.\n\nNATO [_embracing Salome_]. O my dear, dear mother.\n\nSALOME [_seizing her daughter and kissing her_]. Now I am rid of my\nworries about you. I hope it will bring you joy. Go and put on another\ndress, for your betrothed is coming.\n\nNATO. Now?\n\nSALOME. Certainly, at once. You know, I presume, that you must make\nyourself pretty.\n\nNATO [_happy and speaking quickly_]. Certainly. I will wear the white\nbar\u00e8ge with blue ribbons, the little cross on black velvet ribbon, and a\nblue ribbon in my hair. [_Hugs Chacho_.] O my precious auntie!\n\nCHACHO [_embracing and kissing her_]. May this hour bring you\ngood-fortune! I wish it for you with all my heart.\n\nNATO [_hugging and kissing Salome again_]. O you dear, you dearest\nmamma. [_Runs out of the room_.\n\n\n\n\nSCENE IX\n\n_Salome. Chacho_.\n\n\nCHACHO. What does all this mean? Am I dreaming or am I still awake?\n\nSALOME. What are you saying about dreams? His sister Champera was here,\nand about five minutes later he himself came. They live very near here.\n\nCHACHO. If it was arranged so easily, why have you wrangled and\nquarrelled so much?\n\nSALOME [_in a whisper_]. But what do you think, aunt? I have arranged\nthe affair for 7,000 rubles, and I have had to promise his sister 200\nrubles beside.\n\nCHACHO. May I be struck blind! And you have done this without Ossep's\nknowing it?\n\nSALOME [_whispering_]. He will not kill me for it, and let him talk as\nmuch as he will. It could not go through otherwise. Get up and let us go\ninto that room where Ossep will not hear us. [_Helps her to rise_.\n\nCHACHO. O just heaven! What women we have in these days!\n\n\n\n\nSCENE X\n\n\nOSSEP [_alone, buckling his belt and holding his cap in his hand, comes\nin through the right-hand door, stands awhile in deep thought while he\nwrings his hands several times_]. Give me money! Give me money! I would\nlike to know where I am to get it. It is hard for me to give what I have\npromised. And what if it cannot be arranged for that sum? Am I, then, to\nmake a mess of this!--I who have always been willing to make any\nsacrifice for my children? It must, indeed, lie in this--that the suitor\ndoes not please; for I could not find 2,000 to add to the 6,000 that I\nhave promised. Yes, that's it! The man is not the one I want for her. If\nhe were an ordinary fellow, he would not treat with me. At any rate,\nwhat he is after will show itself now; yes, we shall soon see what kind\nof man he is! Up to this day I have always kept my word, and the best\nthing I can do is to keep it now.\n\n_Enter Gewo_.\n\nOSSEP [_meeting him as he enters from the right_]. Oh, it is you, dear\nGewo! What brings you to our house? [_Offering him his hand_.] I love\nyou; come again, and often!\n\nGEWO. You know well that if I had not need of you, I would not come.\n\nOSSEP. How can I serve you? Pray, sit down.\n\nGEWO [_seating himself_]. What are you saying about serving? Do you\nthink that this confounded Santurian has--\n\nOSSEP [_interrupting him anxiously_]. What has happened?\n\nGEWO. The dear God knows what has happened to the fellow!\n\nOSSEP. But go on, what has happened?\n\nGEWO. What could happen? The fellow has cleared out everything.\n\nOSSEP [_disturbed and speaking softly_]. What did you say, Gewo? Then I\nam lost, body and soul; then I am ruined!\n\nGEWO. I hope he will go to the bottom. How is one to trust any human\nbeing nowadays? Everyone who saw his way of living must have taken him\nfor an honest man.\n\nOSSEP [_softly_]. You kill me, man!\n\nGEWO. God in heaven should have destroyed him long ago, so that this\ncould not have happened. But who could have foreseen it? When one went\ninto his store everything was always in the best order. He kept his\nword, paid promptly when the money was due; but what lay behind that, no\none knew.\n\nOSSEP. I have depended on him so much. What do you say, Gewo? He owes me\n10,000 rubles! I was going to satisfy my creditors with this sum.\nTo-morrow his payment was due, and the next day mine. How can I satisfy\nthem now? Can I say that I cannot pay them because Santurian has given\nme nothing? Am I to be a bankrupt as well as he? May the earth swallow\nme rather!\n\nGEWO. I wish the earth would swallow him, or rather that he had never\ncome into the world! I have just 2,000 rubles on hand; if you wish I\nwill give them to you to-morrow.\n\nOSSEP. Good; I will be very thankful for them. But what do you say to\nthat shameless fellow? Have you seen him? Have you spoken with him?\n\nGEWO. Of course. I have just come from him.\n\nOSSEP. What did he say? Will he really give nothing?\n\nGEWO. If he does not lie, he will settle with you alone. Let the others\nkick, he said. Go to him right off, dear Ossep. Before the thing becomes\nknown perhaps you can still get something out of him.\n\nOSSEP. Come with me, Gewo. Yes, we must do something, or else I am lost.\n\nGEWO. The devil take the scoundrel!\n\n\n\n\nSCENE XI\n\n\nSALOME [_coming in from the left_]. May I lose my sight if he is not\ncoming already. He is already on the walk. [_Looking out of the window\nand then walking toward the entry_.] How my heart beats!\n\n[_Goes into the ante-room. Alexander appears at the window and then at\nthe door of the ante-room_.]\n\n_Alexander enters_.\n\nSALOME [_at the door_]. Come; pray come in. [_Offers her hand_.] May\nyour coming into our house bring blessings!\n\nALEXANDER [_making a bow_]. Madame Salome [_kisses her hand_], I am\nhappy that from now on I dare call myself your son.\n\nSALOME [_kissing him on the brow_]. May God make you as happy as your\nmother wishes. Please, please sit down! Nato will be here immediately.\n                    [_They sit down_.\n\nALEXANDER. How are you, Madame Salome? What is Miss Natalie doing? Since\nthat evening I have not had the pleasure of seeing her.\n\nSALOME. Thank you, she is very well. The concert that evening pleased me\nexceedingly. Thank heaven that so good a fashion has found entrance\namong us. In this way we have a perfect bazaar for the marriageable\ngirls, for had not this concert taken place where would you two have\nfound an opportunity to make each other's acquaintance? Where else\ncould you have caught sight of each other?\n\nALEXANDER. Dear lady, Miss Natalie must please everybody without\nconcerts, and awaken love in them. Oh, how I bless my fate that it is my\nhappy lot to win her love!\n\nSALOME. And my Nato pleases you, dear son-in-law?\n\nALEXANDER. Oh, I love her with all my heart, dear madame!\n\nSALOME. If you love her so much, dear son, why did you exact so much\nmoney? For the sake of 1,000 rubles this affair almost went to pieces.\nYour sister Champera swore to me that if we did not give 1,000 rubles\nmore you would this very day betroth yourself to the daughter of\nBarssegh Leproink.\n\nALEXANDER. I wonder, Madame Salome, that you should credit such things.\nI marry Leproink's daughter! I refuse Miss Natalie on her account!\nforget her beautiful black eyes and her good heart, and run after money!\nWould not that be shameful in me! I must confess to you freely, dear\nmadame, that my sister's way of doing things is hateful to me. _Fi\nmauvais genre!_ But let us say no more about it. If only God will help\nus to a good ending!\n\nSALOME. God grant that neither of you may have anything to\nregret!--[_rising_] I will come back immediately, dear son-in-law; I am\nonly going to see what is keeping Nato. [_Alexander also rises_.] Keep\nyour seat, I beg of you. How ceremonious you are! I will come right\nback.\n                    [_Exit right_.\n\n\n\n\nSCENE XII\n\n\nALEXANDER [_alone._] At last my burning wish is fulfilled! Now I have\nboth a pretty wife and money. Without money a man is not of the least\nimportance. Let him give himself what trouble he may, if he has no\nmoney, no one will pay any attention to him. I have made only one\nmistake in the business. I have been in too much of a hurry. If I had\nheld out a little longer they would have given me 8,000 rubles; now I\nmust be satisfied with 7,000. Still, what was to be done? It would not\nhave gone through otherwise; and for that matter, I may, perhaps,\nsomehow make up for it in other ways. In any case, I stand here on a fat\npasture-land where they seem to be pretty rich. The principal thing is\nthat I should make myself popular among them, then I shall have\nsucceeded in getting my fill out of them. Ha, ha, ha! How they worry\nthemselves! Yes, the whole office will be in an uproar to-morrow. [_With\naffected voice_:] \"Have you heard the news? Marmarow is engaged, and has\nreceived 7,000 rubles dowry. And such a beautiful girl! Such a lovely\ncreature!\" [_Clucking with his tongue and changing his voice_:] \"Is it\npossible!\" [_In his own voice_:] Charming, charming, Marmarow! [_Looking\nat his clothing:_] Chic! A true gentleman am I! Yes, I am getting on. I\nmust now think only of to-morrow and the next day, and how to get on\nfurther. The principal thing is for a man to know the value of money,\nfor without money nothing can be undertaken. First, I shall have the\ninterest on my capital; then my salary, and last some hundred rubles\nbeside. That makes 3,000 or 4,000 rubles a year. If I lay aside 1,000\nrubles every year, I have in seven or eight years 10,000; in fifteen\nyears double that, and so on. Yes, Monsieur Marmarow, you understand it!\nBe happy, therefore, and let the others burst with envy.\n\n_Salome and Nato enter at the right, Salome holding Nato's hand_.\n\nALEXANDER. Miss Natalie, the whole night long I thought only of you!\n[_Kisses her hand_.]\n\nSALOME. Kiss her on the cheek and give her the engagement ring.\n\nALEXANDER. Oh, you are the sun of my existence! [_Draws a ring from his\nfinger and gives it to Natalie_.] From now on you are mine. Please!\n[_Kisses her_.]\n\nSALOME. Be happy and may you reach old age together. [_Kisses Alexander;\nthen Nato_.] God bless you, my children. Sit down, I pray you, Alexander\n[_pointing to the sofa on which Alexander and Nato sit down_]. Your\nfather will soon be here. [_Walks to and fro in joyful excitement_.]\n\nALEXANDER [_looking at Nato_]. Dear Natalie, why are you so silent? Let\nme hear your sweet voice, I beg of you.\n\nNATO. I am speechless, Monsieur Marmarow.\n\nALEXANDER. Monsieur!\n\nNATO. Dear Alexander.\n\nALEXANDER [_seizing her hand_]. So! That sounds much sweeter! [_Kisses\nher hand_.]\n\n_Enter Chacho_.\n\nSALOME. Come in, dear aunt.\n\nCHACHO. Such a thing has never happened to me before! Could you not wait\ntill the man of the house arrived?\n\nSALOME. Oh, it is all the same; he will be here soon enough. Give them\nyour blessing, I beg of you.\n\nCHACHO. May God bestow all good things upon you. May heaven grant the\nprayer of me, a sinner. [_Alexander and Nato stand up_.] May you have\nnothing to regret. May you flourish and prosper and grow old together on\nthe same pillow. [_Ossep comes to the door and stands astonished_.]\n\nCHACHO [_continuing_]. God grant that your first may be a boy! Love and\nrespect each other! May the eye of the Czar look down on you with mercy!\n[_Sees Ossep_.] Let the father now offer you his good wishes.\n\nSALOME. Dear Ossep, congratulate your daughter.\n\nNATO. Dear papa!\n                    [_Goes up to Ossep and kisses his hand. Ossep stands\n                         motionless_.\n\nALEXANDER [_seizing Ossep's hand_]. From now on, dear father, count me\namong your children. [_Turning to Nato offended_:] What is this?\n\nSALOME. Don't be impolite, Ossep.\n\nCHACHO. What has happened to you, Ossep?\n\nALEXANDER [_to Salome_]. I understand nothing of this. [_To Ossep_:] My\nfather, you seem dissatisfied.\n\nOSSEP [_recovering himself_]. I dissatisfied! No--yes--I am dizzy.\n\nALEXANDER [_offering him a chair_]. Sit down, I pray, my father.\n\nOSSEP [_to Alexander_]. Do not trouble yourself. It is already passed.\n\nSALOME. Can one meet his son-in-law like that? And such a son-in-law,\nbeside! Say something, do.\n\nOSSEP. What shall I say, then? You have consummated the betrothal. God\ngrant that all will end well. [_To Alexander_:] Please be seated.\n\nALEXANDER. My father, when do you wish the betrothal to be celebrated?\n\nOSSEP. That depends upon you. Do as you wish.\n\nALEXANDER. I will invite twenty persons and bring them with me. My\nsuperiors I must invite also; it would not do to omit them.\n\nOSSEP. Do as you see fit.\n\nALEXANDER [_to Salome_]. Perhaps he is angry with me. If there is any\nreason for it, pray tell me now.\n\nSALOME. What are you saying? That cannot be!\n                    [_They move away a little and speak softly together_.\n\nOSSEP [_on the other side of the stage to Chacho_]. You Godforsaken!\nCould you not wait a moment?\n\nCHACHO. What is the matter now?\n\nOSSEP. Only God in heaven knows how I stand! Think of it! Santurian has\nfailed.\n\nCHACHO. Great heaven!\n\nALEXANDER [_offering Nato his arm_]. Something must have happened!\n                    [_They go off at the left, Salome following_.\n\nOSSEP. Righteous God, why dost thou punish me thus?\n\nSALOME [_returning to Ossep_]. Do with me as you will, but it could not\nhave been helped. I have promised him 7,000 rubles as dowry, [_Turning\nto Chacho as she leaves the room_:] Pray come with me, aunt. You come,\ntoo, Ossep.\n                    [_Exit Salome_.\n\n\n\n\nSCENE XIII\n\n\nOSSEP [_much excited_]. What do I hear? Has she spoken the truth? Do you\nhear? Why do you not answer me? Why are you silent? [_Still more\nexcited_.] It is true, then! Yes, yes, I see that it is true! O God, let\nlightning strike this unlucky house that we may all die together. I\nhave just lost an important sum and come home to prevent further\nnegotiations. And see there!\n\nCHACHO. I am to blame for it. Do not get excited. I will add 1,000\nrubles to it, if need be, from the money I have laid by for my burial.\n\nOSSEP. From your burial money? Have I already fallen so low that I must\nask alms? Keep your money for yourself! I do not want it. Drop that\ncomplaint also, for I am still rich, very rich. How can it injure me\nthat Santurian has failed? I stand here firm and unshakable, and have\ninexhaustible money resources. [_Tearing his hair_.] O God! O God!\n[_Walks to and fro excitedly_.] Now I will go and wish my son-in-law\njoy. Yes, I must go so that I shall not make myself ridiculous to him.\nThe man is a government official!\n                    [_Exit right, laughing bitterly_.\n\nCHACHO. Gracious heaven, be thou our saviour and deliverer.\n\n\nCURTAIN.\n\n\n\n\nACT SECOND\n\nSCENE I\n\n_A richly furnished sales-room in Barssegh's house_.\n\n\nMICHO. Two, three, four, five, six and this little piece. It does not\nmeasure so much!\n\nBARSSEGH [_standing up and giving Micho a rap on the nose_]. You have\nwhat is lacking there. Measure again. Now you've got what is lacking. I\nwill tear your soul out of your body if you measure so that in seven\narschin[44] it comes out one werschok short.\n\n[44] Russian measure of length.\n\nMICHO [_measuring again_]. O dear, O dear!\n\nBARSSEGH. Look out, or I will take that \"O dear\" out of your ear. Be up\nand at it now!\n\nMICHO. Oh, Mr. Barssegh! [_Measuring._] One, two, three--\n\nBARSSEGH. Stretch it, you blockhead.\n\nMICHO [_stretching the cotton_]. Three, four. [_Wipes the perspiration\nfrom his brow_.]\n\nBARSSEGH. What is the matter with you? You sweat as though you had a\nmule-pack on your back.\n\nMICHO. Five.\n\nBARSSEGH. Pull it out more.\n\nMICHO. Six and this little piece. It lacks three werschok again.\n\nBARSSEGH [_pulling his ears_]. It lacks three werschok? There they are!\n\nMICHO. Oh my, oh my!\n\nBARSSEGH. You calf; will you ever develop into a man?\n\nMICHO. O dear mother!\n\nBARSSEGH [_pulling him again by the ear_]. Doesn't it grow longer?\n\nMICHO [_crying_]. Dear Mr. Barssegh, dear sir, let me go.\n\nBARSSEGH. I want to teach you how to measure.\n\nMICHO. It reaches, I say; it reaches, indeed; it reaches. Let me\nmeasure again.\n\nBARSSEGH. Now take care that you make it seven arschin.\n\nMICHO [_aside_]. Holy Karapet, help me. [_Measuring_.] One, two--\n\nBARSSEGH. O you blockhead!\n\nMICHO. Three.\n\nBARSSEGH Wake up!\n\nMICHO. Four.\n\nBARSSEGH. Haven't you seen how Dartscho measures?\n\nMICHO. Five.\n\nBARSSEGH. Will you ever learn how to do it?\n\nMICHO. Five.\n\nBARSSEGH. If you keep on being so stupid my business will be ruined.\n\nMICHO. Five--five.\n\nBARSSEGH. I give you my word that I will give you the sack.\n\nMICHO. Five--five.\n\nBARSSEGH. Measure further.\n\nMICHO. Five--[_aside_:]; Holy George, help me! [_Aloud_:] Six. I cannot\nstretch it any more or I shall tear it.\n\nBARSSEGH. Measure, now.\n\nMICHO. O dear; I believe it is already torn.\n\nBARSSEGH [_looking at the cloth_]. I see nothing. God forbid!\n\nMICHO [_looking at the measure_]. It is short a half werschok of seven\narschin every time.\n\n_The madman, Mosi, comes in at the middle door and stands in the\nbackground_.\n\n\n\n\nSCENE II\n\n_Mosi_.\n\n\nBARSSEGH [_hitting Micho on the head_]. What are you good for? Can't you\nget that half werschok out of it?\n\nMICHO [_howling_.] What am I to do when the cloth is too short?\n\nBARSSEGH [_pulling his hair_]. Are you sure you're not lying?\n\nMICHO [_yelling_.] How can you say that? Measure it yourself and we\nshall see whether there are seven arschin here.\n\nBARSSEGH [_angry; taking measure and calico_]. You say there are not\nseven here? Wait, I will show you [_measuring._] One, two, three, four,\nfive, six, seven, and a quarter left over for a present to you. What do\nyou say about it now? You must learn to measure if you burst doing it.\nBut you think only of your week's pay. Now, hurry up; be lively there!\n\nMICHO. O heaven! How shall I begin? One, two--\n\nBARSSEGH. Be careful and don't tear it.\n\nMICHO [_crying._] What do you want of me? If I pull on the stuff I tear\nit; and if I don't stretch it, no seven arschin will come out of it.\n\nMOSI [_coming near_]. Ha! ha! ha! Who is the toper? Who? 'Tis I; the mad\nMosi. Ha! ha! ha!\n\nBARSSEGH [_aside._] How comes this crazy fellow here?\n\nMOSI [_seizing the measure and calico_]. Give it to me, you booby! There\nare not only seven arschin here, but twenty-seven [_measuring quickly_].\nOne, two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, and here are thirteen and\nfourteen. Do you want me to make still more out of it? You must shove\nthe stick back in measuring. Can't you understand that? [_Throws the\nstick and calico upon Micho_.] Here, take it and be a man at last. You\nthe shop-boy of such a great merchant and not find out a little thing\nlike that. Haven't you learned yet how to steal half a werschok? Ha, ha,\nha!\n                    [_Micho tries to free himself but becomes more\n                         entangled in the cloth_.\n\nBARSSEGH [_to Mosi_], I forbid such impudent talk in my presence! Be\nsilent, or I'll show you.\n\nMOSI. That's the way with all mankind. They never appreciate good\nintentions. [_Pointing to Micho_.] I only wanted to make something of\nhim. Go, go, my son, be a man! Learn from your master! You surely see\nhow much money he has scraped together! [_To Barssegh_:] How is it about\neating? It's time for dinner! Have the table set; I have come as a\nguest. What have you to-day? Coal-soup, perhaps, or water-soup? Yes,\nyes; you will entertain me finely! Ha, ha!\n\nBARSSEGH [_aside_]. This confounded fellow is drunk again! [_To Micho_:]\nGet out of the room!\n                    [_Exit Micho middle door._\n\n\n\n\nSCENE III\n\n\nMOSI. From this stuff you can make a shroud for yourself. To-day or\nto-morrow you must die, that's sure.\n\nBARSSEGH. You'd better be still!\n                    [_Enter Khali at left_.\n\nKHALI. Do you know the latest?\n\nBARSSEGH. What has happened?\n\nKHALI. What has happened? Marmarow was betrothed yesterday.\n\nBARSSEGH. No!\n\nKHALI. By heaven!\n\nBARSSEGH. To whom?\n\nKHALI. To the daughter of Ossep Gulabianz.\n\nBARSSEGH. Is that really true?\n\nKHALI. Do you think I am lying? They promised him 10,000 rubles dowry. I\nalways said you should have saved something. Now you have it! They have\nsnatched him away from you. And such a man, too! They puff themselves up\nentirely too much. Where did they get the money, I would like to know?\n                    [_Micho appears at the middle door_.\n\nBARSSEGH. Run right off down to the Tapitach.[45] You know where Ossep\nGulabianz's store is?\n\n[45] A district of Tiflis.\n\nMICHO. Gulabianz? The one who brought money to-day?\n\nBARSSEGH. Yes, that one. Go and look for him wherever he is likely to\nbe. Tell him he must bring the rest of the money at once. Now, run\nquickly. What else do I want to say? Oh, yes [_pointing to the calico_];\ntake that winding-sheet with you.\n\nMOSI. Ha, ha, ha! Listen to him!\n\nBARSSEGH. By heaven! What am I chattering about? I am crazed! [_Angrily,\nto Micho_:] What are you gaping at? Do you hear? Take this calico. Go to\nthe store and tell Dartscho to come here. Lively, now!\n                    [_Exit Micho with goods_.\n\nBARSSEGH [_going on_]. I would like to see how he is going to give\n10,000 rubles dowry. I would like to know whose money it is?\n\nKHALI. That stuck-up Salome has gotten my son-in-law away from me.\n\nBARSSEGH. Never mind. I will soon put them into a hole.\n\nMOSI. Oh, don't brag about things you can't perform. What has Ossep done\nto you that you want revenge? How can Ossep help it if your daughter is\nas dumb as straw and has a mouth three ells long? And what have Micho's\nears to do with it? You should simply have given what the man asked.\n\nBARSSEGH [_rising_]. O you wretch, you!\n\nMOSI. Yes, you should certainly have paid it. Why didn't you? For whom\nare you saving? To-morrow or the day after you will have to die and\nleave it here.\n\nBARSSEGH. Stop, or--\n\nKHALI [_to Mosi_]. Why do you anger him? Haven't we trouble and anxiety\nenough?\n\nMOSI. Well, I will be still. But I swear that this young man may call\nhimself lucky that he has freed himself from you and closed with Ossep.\nBoth of you together are not worth Ossep's finger-tips.\n\nBARSSEGH. Leave me in peace or I will shake off all my anger on to you.\n\nMOSI. What can you do to me? You cannot put my store under the hammer.\nWhat a man you are, indeed!\n\nBARSSEGH. A better man than you any day.\n\nMOSI. In what are you better?\n\nBARSSEGH. In the first place, I am master of my five senses, and you are\ncracked.\n\nMOSI [_laughs_]. Ha, ha, ha! If you were rational you would not have\nsaid that. Am I crazy because I show up your villanies? You are wise,\nyou say? Perhaps you are as wise as Solomon!\n\nBARSSEGH. I am wealthy.\n\nMOSI. Take your money and--[_Whispers something in his ear._] You have\nstolen it here and there. You have swindled me out of something, too. Me\nand this one and that one, and so you became rich! You have provided\nyourself with a carriage, and go riding in it and make yourself\nimportant. Yes, that is the way with your money. Did your father Matus\ncome riding to his store in a carriage, eh? You say you are rich? True,\nthere is scarcely anyone richer than you; but if we reckon together all\nthe money you have gained honorably, we shall see which of us two has\nmost. [_Drawing his purse from his pocket and slapping it_.] See! I have\nearned all this by the sweat of my brow. Oh, no, like you I collected it\nfor the church and put it in my own pocket. Are you going to fail again\nsoon?\n\nBARSSEGH. Heaven preserve me from it!\n\nMOSI. It would not be the first time. When you are dead they will shake\nwhole sacks full of money in your grave for you.\n\nBARSSEGH. Will you never stop?\n\nKHALI. Are you not ashamed to make such speeches?\n\nMOSI. Till you die I will not let you rest. As long as you live I will\ngnaw at you like a worm, for you deserve it for your villany. What!\nHaven't you committed every crime? You robbed your brother of his\ninheritance; you cheated your partner; you have repudiated debts, and\nheld others to false debts. Haven't you set your neighbors' stores on\nfire? If people knew everything they would hang you. But the world is\nstone-blind, and so you walk God's earth in peace. Good-by! I would like\nto go to Ossep and warn him against you; for if he falls into your\nclutches he is lost.\n\n\n\n\nSCENE IV\n\n\nBARSSEGH. Yes, yes; go and never come back.\n\nKHALI. I wish water lay in front of him and a drawn sword behind.\n\nBARSSEGH. This fellow is a veritable curse!\n\nKHALI. Yes, he is, indeed.\n\nBARSSEGH. The devil take him! If he is going to utter such slanders, I\nhope he will always do it here, and not do me harm with outsiders.\n\nKHALI. You are to blame for it yourself. Why do you have anything to do\nwith the good-for-nothing fellow?\n\nBARSSEGH. There you go! Do I have anything to do with him? He is always\nat my heels, like my own shadow.\n\nKHALI. Can't you forbid him to enter your doors?\n\nBARSSEGH. So that he will not let me pass by in the streets? Do you\nwant him to make me the talk of the town?\n\nKHALI. Then don't speak to him any more.\n\nBARSSEGH. As if I took pleasure in it! It is all the same to him whether\none speaks to him or not.\n\nKHALI. What are we to do with him, then?\n\nBARSSEGH [_angrily_]. Why do you fasten yourself on to me like a gadfly?\nHave I not trouble enough already? [_Beating his hands together_.] How\ncould you let him escape? You are good for nothing!\n\nKHALI. What could I do, then, if you were stingy about the money? If you\nhad promised the 10,000 rubles, you would have seen how easily and\nquickly everything would have been arranged.\n\nBARSSEGH. If he insists upon so much he may go to the devil. For 10,000\nrubles I will find a better man for my daughter.\n\nKHALI. I know whom you mean. Give me the money and I will arrange the\nthing to-day.\n\nBARSSEGH [_derisively_]. Give it! How easily you can say it! Is that a\nmulberry-tree, then, that one has only to shake and thousands will fall\nfrom it? Don't hold my rubles so cheaply; for every one of them I have\nsold my soul twenty times.\n\nKHALI. If I can only get sight of that insolent Salome, I'll shake a\ncart-load of dirt over her head. Only let her meet me!\n                    [_Exit, left_.\n\n\n\n\nSCENE V\n\n\nBARSSEGH [_alone_]. And you shall see what I will do! Only wait, my dear\nOssep! I am getting a day of joy ready for you and you will shed tears\nas thick as my thumb. I have been looking for the chance a long time,\nand now fate has delivered you into my hands. You braggart, you shall\nsee how you will lie at my feet. I am the son of the cobbler Matus.\nThere are certain simpletons who shake their heads over those who had\nnothing and suddenly amount to something. But I tell you that this world\nis nothing more than a great honey-cask. He who carries away the best\npart for himself, without letting the others come near it, he is the\nman to whom praise and honor are due. But a man who stands aside, like\nOssep, and waits till his turn comes is an ass.\n\n_Enter Dartscho_.\n\nBARSSEGH. Ah, Dartscho! How quickly you have come!\n\nDARTSCHO. I met Micho just now, and he told me that you had sent for me.\n\nBARSSEGH. I have something important to speak with you about. [_He sits\ndown_.] Where were you just now?\n\nDARTSCHO. At George's, the coal man. He owed us some money, and I have\nbeen to see him seven times this week on that account.\n\nBARSSEGH. He is very unpunctual. But how does it stand? Has he paid?\n\nDARTSCHO. Of course! What do you take me for? I stayed in the store as\nif nailed there, and when a new customer came in I repeated my demand.\nThere was nothing left for him to do but to pay me, for shame's sake.\n\nBARSSEGH. That pleases me in you, my son. Go on like that and you will\nget on in the world. Look at me! There was a time when they beat me over\nthe head and called me by my given name. Then they called me Barssegh,\nand finally \"Mr.\" Barssegh. When I was as old as you are I was nothing,\nand now I am a man who stands for something. If my father, Matus, were\nstill alive he would be proud of me. I tell you all this so that you\nwill spare no pains to make yourself a master and make people forget\nthat you are the son of a driver. A son can raise up the name of his\nfather; he can also drag it down into the dust.\n\nDARTSCHO. You see best of all what trouble I take, Mr. Barssegh. When I\nopen the store in the morning, I never wait until Micho comes, but I\ntake the broom in my hand and sweep out the store. And how I behave with\nthe customers, you yourself see.\n\nBARSSEGH. Yes, I see it; I see it, my son, and it is on that account I\nam so good to you. Only wait till next year and you shall be my partner.\nI will supply the money and you the labor.\n\nDARTSCHO. May God give you a long life for that! I seem to myself like\na tree which you have planted. I hope I will still bear fruit and you\nwill have your joy in me. Do you know that I have gotten rid of those\ndamaged goods?\n\nBARSSEGH. Is it possible?\n\nDARTSCHO. It's a fact.\n\nBARSSEGH. To whom have you sold them?\n\nDARTSCHO. To a man from Signach. I laid two good pieces on top so that\nhe did not notice it. Let him groan now.\n\nBARSSEGH. And how? On credit?\n\nDARTSCHO. Am I then crazy? Have I ever sold damaged goods on credit,\nthat you make such a supposition? Of course I took something off for it,\nbut made believe I only did it to please him. He paid me the full sum at\nonce; and if he is now boasting how cheap he bought the goods, I hope he\nwill sing my praises also.\n\nBARSSEGH. Do you know, dear Dartscho, you are a fine fellow? Yes, I have\nalways said that you would amount to something.\n\nDARTSCHO. God grant it! What commands have you, Mr. Barssegh? There is\nno one in the store.\n\nBARSSEGH. Oh, right! I had almost forgotten. If Ossep Gulabianz comes to\nborrow money, give him nothing.\n\nDARTSCHO. What has happened?\n\nBARSSEGH. I am terribly angry at him.\n\nDARTSCHO. And I have even more reason to be angry at him; he is\naltogether too stuck-up. But what has occurred?\n\nBARSSEGH. I will show him now who I am. His whole business is just like\na hayrick; a match is enough to set the whole thing ablaze.\n\nDARTSCHO. I would not be sorry for ten matches! Tell me what I can do\nabout it? The rest I know already.\n\nBARSSEGH. Think of it! The fellow has snatched away a fine fat morsel\nfrom my very mouth. I had found an excellent husband for my daughter.\nFor a whole week we carried on negotiations with him and everything was\nnear final settlement when this Ossep came in and bid over us. On the\nvery same day he betrothed his daughter to the man.\n\nDARTSCHO. The devil take him for it!\n\nBARSSEGH. And do you know, also, whose money he is going to use? It is\nmy money he is going to give him.\n\nDARTSCHO. That is just it! That is it!\n\nBARSSEGH. Things look bad for his pocket. Now he is going to marry off\nhis daughter and put himself in a tight place. Go, therefore, and get\nout an execution against him; otherwise nothing can be squeezed out of\nhim.\n\nDARTSCHO. We shall see. I will go at once and demand our money.\n\nBARSSEGH. I have already sent Micho, but I hardly believe he will give\nit up so easily. On that account I sent for you to find out someone who\ncan help us.\n\nDARTSCHO. I know a lawyer who can manage so that in three hours they\nwill put an attachment on his store.\n\nBARSSEGH. Go on so forever, dear Dartscho! Yes, I have long known that\nyou were going to be the right sort of fellow!\n\nDARTSCHO. The apprentice of a right good master always gets on in the\nworld.\n\nBARSSEGH. Go quickly then; lose no time.\n\nDARTSCHO. I will not waste an hour.\n\nBARSSEGH. Go! May you succeed!\n                    [_Exit Dartscho, middle door_.\n\nBARSSEGH [_alone_]. Yes, yes, friend Ossep, now show what you can do! I\nwould burn ten candles to have you in my power.\n                    [_Exit, right, taking the account book_.\n\n\n\n\nSCENE VI\n\n_Khali. Salome_.\n\n\nKHALI [_entering from the left_]. Such a bold creature I never saw\nbefore in my life! [_Calling through the window_:] Come in! come in! I\npray! Do you hear, Salome? I am calling you. Come in here a moment\n[_coming back from the window_]. She is coming. Wait, you insolent\nthing! I will give you a setting-out such as no one has ever given you\nbefore!\n\nSALOME [_dressed in the latest fashion, with a parasol in her hand;\nenters at middle door_]. Why did you call me? Good-morning! How are you?\n                    [_They shake hands_.\n\nKHALI. Thank you. Pray sit down. [_They both sit down_.] So you have\nbetrothed your daughter?\n\nSALOME. Yes, dear Khali. God grant that we soon hear of your Nino's like\ngood-fortune! I betrothed her last evening. I found a good husband for\nher. He is as handsome as a god. I can scarcely stand for joy!\n\nKHALI. Yes, make yourself important about it!\n\nSALOME [_offended_]. What is this? What does it mean?\n\nKHALI. You owed us a favor, and you have done it for us.\n\nSALOME. What have I done to you?\n\nKHALI. You could not do more, indeed. You have cheated me out of a\nson-in-law. Is not that enough?\n\nSALOME. But, my dear Khali, what kind of things are you saying to me?\nWhat do you mean by it?\n\nKHALI. Be still! be still! I know well enough how it was.\n\nSALOME. May I go blind if I know what you are talking about!\n\nKHALI. Didn't you know very well that I wished to give my daughter to\nhim?\n\nSALOME. I don't understand you! You said no earthly word to me about it.\n\nKHALI. Even if I have not said anything about it, someone has certainly\ntold you of it.\n\nSALOME. No one has said a word about it.\n\nKHALI. She lies about it, beside! Isn't that shameful?\n\nSALOME. Satan lies. What are you accusing me of?\n\nKHALI. And you really did not know that I wished to give him my\ndaughter?\n\nSALOME. And if I had known it? When a man wants to marry, they always\nspeak of ten, and yet he marries only one.\n\nKHALI. So you knew it very well? Why did you lie, then?\n\nSALOME. You are out of your head! How was I to find it out? Did you send\nword by anyone that you were going to give your daughter to the man? In\nwhat way am I to blame for it? You knew as much as I did. You treated\nwith him just as I did and sent marriage brokers to him.\n\nKHALI. I approached him first.\n\nSALOME. O my dear, the flowers in the meadow belong not to those who\nsee them first, but to those who pluck them.\n\nKHALI. You did not wait. Perhaps I would have plucked them.\n\nSALOME. And why didn't you pluck them?\n\nKHALI. You wouldn't let me. Do you think I do not know that you promised\nhim more than we did?\n\nSALOME. May I go blind! Khali, how can you say that? How much did you\npromise him?\n\nKHALI. How much did we promise him? Ha! ha! as though you did not know\nit! Eight thousand rubles.\n\nSALOME. Then you promised more than we did, for we can give him only\n7,000.\n\nKHALI. You surely do not think me so stupid as to believe that!\n\nSALOME. As sure as I wish my Nato all good fortune, what I say is true.\n\nKHALI. And you think that I believe you?\n\nSALOME. What? What do you say? Would I swear falsely about my daughter?\n\nKHALI. Of course it is so! Would he let my 8,000 go to take your 7,000?\n\nSALOME. I am not to blame for that. Probably your daughter did not\nplease him, since he did not want her.\n\nKHALI. What fault have you to find with my daughter? As though yours\nwere prettier, you insolent woman, you!\n\nSALOME [_standing up_]. You are insolent! Is it for this you called me\nin? Can your daughter be compared to my Nato? Is it my fault that your\ndaughter has a wide mouth?\n\nKHALI. You have a wide mouth yourself; and your forward daughter is not\na bit prettier than mine!\n\nSALOME. What! you say she is forward? Everyone knows her as a modest and\nwell-behaved girl, while everybody calls yours stupid. Yes, that is\ntrue; and if you want to know the truth, I can tell it to you--it is\njust on that account that he would not have her.\n\nKHALI. Oh, you witch, you! You have caught the poor young man in your\nnets and deceived him. I would like to know where you are going to get\nthe 7,000 rubles.\n\nSALOME. That is our affair. I would rather have broken my leg than to\nhave come in here.\n\nKHALI. He is up to the ears in debt and is going to give such a dowry!\n\nSALOME [_coming back_]. Even if we are in debt, we have robbed nobody,\nas you have.\n\nKHALI [_springing up_]. 'Tis you who steal; you! You are a thief! Look\nout for yourself that I do not tear the veil off your head, you wicked\nwitch, you!\n\nSALOME [_holding her veil toward her_]. Try it once. I would like to see\nhow you begin it. You have altogether too long a tongue, and are only\nthe daughter-in-law of the cobbler Matus.\n\nKHALI. And what better are you? You are a gardener's daughter, you\ninsolent thing!\n\nSALOME. You are insolent, yourself! Do not think so much of\nyourself--everyone knows that you have robbed the whole world, and only\nin that way have gotten up in the world.\n\nKHALI. Oh, you good-for-nothing!\n                    [_Throws herself on Salome and tears her veil off_.\n\nSALOME. Oh! oh!                [_Gets hold of Khali's hair_.\n\nKHALI. Oh! oh!\n\nSALOME. I'll pull all your hair out!\n                    [_Astonished, she holds a lock in her hand_.\n\n_Enter Ossep_.\n\nOSSEP. What do I see?\n\nKHALI [_tearing the lock from Salome's hand_]. May I be blind!\n                    [_Exit embarrassed_.\n\nSALOME [_arranging her veil_]. Oh, you monkey, you!\n\nOSSEP. What is the meaning of this?\n\nSALOME. God only knows how it came to this. I was walking quietly in the\nstreet and she called me in and tore the veil from my head because I, as\nshe said, took her daughter's suitor away from her.\n\nOSSEP. It serves you right! That comes from your having secrets from me\nand promising him 7,000 rubles instead of 6,000.\n\nSALOME. I would rather have broken a leg than come into this horrid\nhouse. I did it only out of politeness. I wish these people might lose\neverything they have got [_pinning her veil_]. At any rate, I punished\nher for it by pulling off her false hair. If she tells on herself now,\nshe may also tell about me. She got out of the room quickly, so that no\none would find out that her hair was as false as everything else.\n\nOSSEP. It would be best for us if the earth opened and swallowed us up.\n\nSALOME [_crying_]. Am I, then, so much to blame here?\n\nOSSEP. Really, you look splendid! Go! go! that no one sees you here. It\nis not the first time that you have put me in a dilemma. Go! and pray\nGod to change noon into midnight and make the streets dark, so that no\none sees that you have a torn veil on your head.\n\nSALOME [_wiping away her tears_]. God only knows everything I have to\nsuffer from you!\n\nOSSEP [_alone_]. Great heaven! how this world is arranged! When one\ntrouble comes to a man a second comes along, too, and waits at his door.\nWhen I am just about ready to cope with the first, in comes the second\nand caps the climax. I don't know which way to turn with all my debts;\nand now this women's quarrel will be laid at my door.\n\n\n\n\nSCENE VII\n\n\nBARSSEGH [_coming in, angry_]. I will show him that I am a man!\n\nOSSEP. Good-morning!\n\nBARSSEGH. I want neither \"good-morning\" nor any other wish from you. You\nhave, I suppose, come to help your wife. Give me a blow, too, so the\nmeasure will be full. This is surely the interest on the money you owe\nme.\n\nOSSEP. Calm yourself. What, indeed, do you want?\n\nBARSSEGH. Do you, then, believe that I will overlook my wife's hair\nbeing pulled out? That I will not pardon.\n\nOSSEP. What is there to pardon? Your wife tore my wife's veil from her\nhead.\n\nBARSSEGH. A veil is not hair.\n\nOSSEP. For heaven's sake, stop! Is a women's spat our affair?\n\nBARSSEGH. Say what you wish, but I will do what pleases me.\n\nOSSEP. Calm yourself; calm yourself.\n\nBARSSEGH. Yes, yes; I will calm you, too.\n\nOSSEP. Believe me; it is unworthy of you.\n\nBARSSEGH. She has torn her veil, he says. What is a veil, then? A thing\nthat one can buy, and at most costs two rubles.\n\nOSSEP. The hair was also not her own. Why do you worry yourself about\nit? For a two-ruble veil she tore a two-kopeck band. The band is there,\nand she can fasten the hair on again.\n\nBARSSEGH. No, you can't get out of it that way. I will not pardon her\nfor this insolence.\n\nOSSEP [_aside_]. Great heaven!\n\nBARSSEGH. You'll see! you'll see!\n\nOSSEP. Do what you will! I did not come to you on that account. You sent\nfor me by Micho?\n\nBARSSEGH. Yes, you are right. Have you brought me my money? Give it to\nme, quick!\n\nOSSEP. How you speak to me! Am I your servant, that you speak so\nroughly? You surely do not know whom you have before you. Look out, for\nif I go for you, you will sing another tune.\n\nBARSSEGH. That has not happened to me yet! He owes me money, and even\nhere he makes himself important!\n\nOSSEP. Do you think because I owe you money I shall stand your insults?\nI speak politely to you, and I demand the same from you.\n\nBARSSEGH. Enough of that! Tell me whether you have brought the money or\nnot.\n\nOSSEP. Have I ever kept back from you any of your money? Why should I do\nit to-day?\n\nBARSSEGH. Then give it to me now.\n\nOSSEP. You said at that time--\n\nBARSSEGH. I know nothing of that time.\n\nOSSEP. What is the matter with you? You speak as if in a dream.\n\nBARSSEGH. Whether I speak as in a dream or not, give me the money, and\nhave done with it.\n\nOSSEP [_takes a chair and sits down_]. You are mistaken, my dear Mr.\nBarssegh; you are mistaken. Sit down, pray.\n\nBARSSEGH [_ironically_]. Thank you very much.\n\nOSSEP. You will surely not take back your word?\n\nBARSSEGH. Hand over the money.\n\nOSSEP. What has happened to you? You speak like a madman.\n\nBARSSEGH. It is all the same to me however I speak.\n\nOSSEP. When I gave you the 5,000 rubles that time, did not you say that\nI was to pay the rest in a month?\n\nBARSSEGH [_sitting down_]. And if I did say so, what does it amount to?\nI need it now.\n\nOSSEP. You should have said so at the time and I would not have paid out\nmy money in other ways. How comes it that you demand it so suddenly? I\nam no wizard, I am sure, to procure it from the stars for you.\n\nBARSSEGH. You may get it wherever you want to. I need it, and that\nsettles it.\n\nOSSEP. Just heaven! Why did you give me a month's grace and reckon on an\nadditional twelve per cent. for it?\n\nBARSSEGH. What kind of grace? Have you anything to show for it?\n\nOSSEP. Isn't your word enough? Why do we need a paper in addition?\n\nBARSSEGH. I didn't give you my word.\n\nOSSEP. What? You did not give it? You admitted it just a few minutes\nago.\n\nBARSSEGH. No, I said nothing about it.\n\nOSSEP [_standing_]. My God! what do I see and hear? You are a merchant\nand tread your word under foot. Shame on you! [_Takes him by the arm and\nleads him to the mirror_.] Look! look at your face! Why do you turn\npale?\n\nBARSSEGH. Let me go!\n\nOSSEP [_holding him fast by the sleeve_]. How can you be so\nunscrupulous? Look! How pale your lips are!\n\nBARSSEGH. Let me go! [_Freeing himself_.] You act exactly as though you\nwere the creditor.\n\nOSSEP. No, you are the creditor. I would rather be swallowed up alive\nby the earth than be such a creditor as you are. What do you think you\nwill be in my eyes after this?\n\nBARSSEGH. I tell you, hand out my money or I will lay your note before\nthe court immediately! I would only like to know where you are going to\nget the dowry for your daughter. You will pay over my money to your\nson-in-law, will you, and give me the go-by?\n\nOSSEP. Give yourself no trouble! Even if you should beg me now, I would\nnot keep your money. To-morrow at this time you shall have it, and then\nmay the faces turn black of those who still look at you.\n\nBARSSEGH. I want it at once.\n\nOSSEP. Then come with me. You shall have it. The sooner a man is rid of\na bad thing, the better it is. Give me the note! No, don't give it to\nme, for you don't trust me. You are not worthy of trusting me. Take it\nyourself and come with me. We will go at once to the bazaar, sell it,\nthen you can have your money. I may lose something by it. It makes no\ndifference. It is easier to bear this misfortune than to talk to you. Do\nyou hear? Shall we go?\n\nBARSSEGH. What do you mean?\n\nOSSEP. Get the note, I tell you! Don't you hear?\n\nBARSSEGH. What kind of a note?\n\nOSSEP. Rostom's note.\n\nBARSSEGH. Rostom's' note? What is this note to you?\n\nOSSEP. What is it to me? It is no word, indeed, that you can deny. It is\na document.\n\nBARSSEGH. What is it to you that I have this document in my hands? That\nis mine and Rostom's business.\n\nOSSEP. Yours and Rostom's business! [_Pauses_.] It is, I see, not yet\nenough that you lie. You are a thief and a robber beside. What people\nsay of you is really true; namely, that you have robbed everybody, and\nby this means have acquired your wealth. Yes, it is true that you have\nruined twenty-five families; that you have put out their candle and\nlighted yours by it. Now I see, for the first time, that everything that\npeople say about you is true. Now I believe, indeed, that these chairs,\nthis sofa, this mirror, your coat, your cane--in a word, every article\nthat you call yours--represents some person you have robbed. Take my\nbones and add to them. Make the measure full. You have made your\nconscience a stone and will hear nothing; but I tell you, one day it\nwill awake, and every object that lies or stands here will begin to\nspeak and hold up to you your villanies. Then you can go and justify\nyourself before your Maker. Shame upon him who still calls you a human\nbeing! [_Exit by the middle door_.\n\nBARSSEGH. Ha! ha! ha! [_Exit at the right_.\n\n\nCURTAIN.\n\n\n\n\nACT THIRD\n\nSCENE I--OSSEP'S HOUSE\n\n\nNATO [_stands before the mirror elegantly dressed, and, while she\nprinks, hums a European melody. Then she draws out of her pocket a\nlittle photograph and speaks to herself while looking in the mirror_]. O\nmy treasure! my treasure! [_Presses the photo to her breast and kisses\nit._] _Mon ch\u00e8r!_ Come; we will dance. [_Dances around the table_.]\nTra-la-la, Tra-la-la. [_Sits down at the right_.] Alexander; my\nAlexander; dear Alexander! Yes, you are really an angel. Why are you so\nhandsome? You have black eyes and I also have black. Then arched\neyebrows just like me. [_Touches her eyebrows_.] A pretty little\nmustache, which I lack. Which of us is more beautiful, I or you? You are\nhandsomest; no, I am handsomest [_springing up_]. We will see at once.\n\n[_Looks at herself in the mirror and then at the photograph. Enter\nAlexander at the middle door_.\n\nNATO [_without noticing Alexander_]. No, you are the more beautiful!\n                    [_Kisses the photograph_.\n\n                    [_Alexander approaches softly and kisses Nato_.\n\nNATO [_frightened_]. Oh!\n\nALEXANDER. No, you are the more beautiful, Natalie, dear. _Ma ch\u00e8re\nNathalie!_\n\nNATO. _O mon ch\u00e8r Alexandre!_ How you frightened me!\n\nALEXANDER [_putting his arm around her_]. Let me kiss you again, and\nyour fright will pass away. [_Kisses her_.] Give me a kiss just once!\n\nNATO [_kissing him_]. There, you have one.\n\nALEXANDER. Well, I ought to allow you to kiss me. Am I not worth more\nthan that piece of paper?\n                    [_Takes her by the hand; they sit down on sofa at the\n                         right_.\n\nNATO. They have come to congratulate us.\n\nALEXANDER. Yes, your grandmother, your aunts, and your cousins. Nato,\nshall you give evening parties like this?\n\nNATO [_smiling_]. Ha! ha! ha! No such _soir\u00e9es_ as this, my dear\nAlexander. Two evenings every month we will give little dances, either\non Tuesdays or Thursdays. Which is better? Do you not think, Alexander,\nthat Thursday will be best?\n\nALEXANDER [_with a grimace_]. As you wish, _ch\u00e8re Nathalie_. If you\nlike, you can give a _soir\u00e9e_ every week.\n\nNATO. No, twice a month is better. Sophie, who is now Madame Jarinskaja,\ngives only two _soir\u00e9es_ in a month.\n\nALEXANDER. Very well, Nato dear.\n\nNATO. That is agreed, then. And every Thursday we will dance at the\nCasino. [_Alexander makes another grimace_.] Mind, now! every Thursday.\n\nALEXANDER. Do you like to visit the Casino?\n\nNATO [_laying her hand on his shoulder_]. Who doesn't like to visit it?\nIs there another place where one can amuse one's self better? The\nbeautiful long _salon_! the _boudoir_! the beautiful music and the rich\ncostumes! How beautiful they all are! [_Embracing Alexander_.] We will\ndance together, and when we are tired, we will go into the mirror-room\nand rest ourselves and talk and laugh.\n\nALEXANDER. And then we will dance again and rest ourselves, and talk and\nlaugh again.\n\nNATO. It will be splendid! [_Kisses him_.] I will dress beautifully _\u00e0\nla mode_, so that everyone will say, \"Look! look! what a charming woman\nMadame Marmarow is!\" And then, dear Alexander, we will subscribe for a\nbox at the theatre for Fridays.\n\nALEXANDER [_making another grimace aside_]. She's piling it on.\n\nNATO. And do you know where? In the upper tier at the left, near the\nfoyer.\n\nALEXANDER. Wouldn't it be better to subscribe for two evenings a week?\n\nNATO. Wouldn't it cost too much?\n\nALEXANDER. What has that to do with it? Do you think I could deny you\nany pleasure? No! no! you shall have everything.\n\nNATO [_embracing him_]. _Ch\u00e8r Alexandre_! do you really love me so\nmuch?\n\nALEXANDER. I cannot tell you at all how much I love you. Right at our\nfirst meeting I fell in love with you!\n\nNATO. I don't believe it! I don't believe it! All young men talk so!\n\nALEXANDER. Ha! ha! ha! Do you think I am like them? With them the\ntongues have nothing to do with the heart; but my tongue speaks what is\nhere!\n                    [_Strikes himself on the breast_.\n\nNATO [_ironically_]. I know! I know! If I had no dowry you would not\nmarry me.\n\nALEXANDER. Nato dear, you wrong me! _ma ch\u00e8re_! As if the dowry made any\ndifference! _Fi donc_!\n\nNATO. Then you really love me so much?\n\nALEXANDER. Very, very much, Nato dear. You can put me to the test if you\nwill.\n\nNATO. Do you know, my piano is not fit to use!\n\nALEXANDER [_smoothing his hair_--_aside_]. Something new again.\n\nNATO. Buy me a new piano. To-day I saw one at a store; it cost 500\nrubles.\n\nALEXANDER. Five hundred rubles! You cannot buy a decent piano for that!\n\nNATO. Dear Alexander!\n\nALEXANDER. Be patient awhile, Nato dear. One of my friends brought a\npiano from abroad that cost 1,000; yes, even 1,500 rubles.\n\nNATO. My sweetheart; my dear sweetheart! [_Kissing him_.] I will come\nright back. [_Rises_.] I must go and prepare for our reception or mamma\nwill be angry. Tra-la-la.\n                    [_Exit at left_.\n\nALEXANDER [_alone, springing up_]. Ha! ha! ha! _soir\u00e9es_, balls at the\nclub, box at the theatre, dresses and ornaments after the latest\nfashion! Am I a millionaire? I would have nothing against it if I had\nthe money to do it. She acts as though she was going to bring 50,000\nrubles dowry into the house. No, Natalie, that will all come later. In\nten or twenty years, perhaps, I will set up a carriage; but it is not\neven to be thought of now. Indeed, I don't know, where it will lead to\nif she makes such demands on me every day. It will lead to quarrels and\nunpleasantness, and it will be all up with my economizing. No, indeed,\nNatalie, it will be no easy thing to satisfy you. Why did I not think of\nthis sooner? Let her talk, and demand what she will. I will do what\npleases me.\n\nNATO [_enter right; speaks to someone behind the scenes_]. I will come\nat once. I am coming. Come, Alexander, let us go into the garden. Mamma\nmust go upstairs, and the guests will be all alone in the garden.\n\nALEXANDER. I am waiting for your father, Nato dear, I have something\nimportant to discuss with him.\n\nNATO. Why, we will soon return, and by that time father will be home. Do\nyou want to sit here alone?\n\nALEXANDER. Well, we will go.\n\nNATO. Come! come! I want to introduce you to my coquettish aunt.\n                    [_Mimics her while making a courtesy, and makes\n                         faces. Alexander, shaking his head, goes out with\n                         Nato noisily through middle door_.\n\n\n\n\nSCENE II\n\n_Salome. Chacho_.\n\n\nCHACHO. No, indeed, Salome. She behaves too boldly. You must give her a\nwarning. Such self-confidence I have I never before seen in a girl.\n\nSALOME. That is all a matter of fashion! What is to be done?\n                    [_Shuffling the cards_.\n\nCHACHO [_seating herself_]. When one thinks how the times have changed,\none grows dizzy! When I was engaged, my love, I dared not open my mouth;\nit was as if they had put a lock on it. Indeed, I dared not look anyone\nin the face, even, and kept my eyes always cast down, as if glued fast\nto the floor.\n\nSALOME. How could anyone endure all that? The eyes are made to look\nwith, I hope, and the tongue to speak! I wouldn't have borne it. It is\nwell that those times are past. I should die of such a life.\n\nCHACHO. Oh, your present times are the true ones! Isn't this shameful,\nnow, what goes on here? All the money that the husband can make in a\nweek, the wife loses at play in a single evening. Is that widow, the\nstout one, going to play with you? She is surely more than fifty years\nold.\n\nSALOME. Of course! we wouldn't play at all without her.\n\nCHACHO. That is the best of all. Why, she has a married daughter as old\nas you are!\n\nSALOME. What of that? Whoever has money can always play. But what do you\nsay to the wife of blind Gigoli? She hasn't enough to eat, but gives\nherself airs before us just the same.\n\nCHACHO. Don't talk to me about her! A few weeks ago she pawned a silver\npitcher to one of our neighbors for five rubles without her husband's\nknowledge. God punished her for it, for that same evening she lost it\nall at cards. I should like to know how she is going to redeem the\npitcher.\n\nSALOME [_arranging her dress before the mirror_]. Yes, yes; no one can\ntake her measure better than I.\n                    [_Enter Ossep_.\n\nOSSEP [_angrily_]. And what have you gotten ready for again?\n\nSALOME. What was to be done? Look and see how many guests there are in\nthe garden!\n\nOSSEP. It was very wrong of them to come here. Has no one invited them,\nthen? They should have asked me first.\n\nSALOME. You are a singular being! We have betrothed our daughter and\nthey were obliged to come and congratulate us.\n\nOSSEP. Congratulate! As though my joy went to their hearts! On the\ncontrary, they would enjoy it if I had a misfortune; they could put\ntheir heads together and criticise and laugh at me.\n\nCHACHO. What are you so ill-humored about? For the last two days you\nhave been intolerable.\n\nOSSEP. If I could unbosom myself to you and show you my heart, you would\ncomprehend what the cause of it is.\n\nCHACHO. God protect you from all evil!\n\nOSSEP. Am I not right? Tell me yourself! This is not the time for\ncard-playing. Why have they come, then? If they wished to congratulate\nus, they could come separately. How does it happen that they all\nthought of us at once? Perhaps each has sent word to the other that\nSalome has betrothed her daughter and they have all taken advantage of\nthe opportunity to come. Of course only for the sake of those damned\ncards! This one or that one has probably been invited by her [_pointing\nto Salome_]. She sent word to them, \"Come to us, I pray! X and Z are\nalready here.\" [_To Salome_:] Say, isn't that so?\n\nSALOME. What nonsense he talks! Ought they not to know at your uncle's\nhouse that we have betrothed our daughter? I was obliged to give them\nsome information about it, was I not?\n\nOSSEP. And to whom beside?\n\nSALOME. Whom else? Your cousins. And I have just sent for your\nsister-in-law.\n\nOSSEP [_anxiously_]. For what purpose? She could have come another time\njust as well.\n\nSALOME. How useless it is to talk so! You understand nothing at all\nabout the matter. Your relatives would take offence in every possible\nway if I did not invite them. They would not speak to me for a year!\n\nOSSEP. Great heaven! I wish they were struck blind! [_Sits down and\npulls at the end of the table-cloth_.] I would take pleasure in throwing\nthem all out!\n\nSALOME. I have no time to dispute with you.\n                    [_Exit at left, angry_.\n\nOSSEP. Great heaven! have women been created only to bleed the men?\n\nCHACHO. Don't excite yourself so, dear Ossep. What you say is in every\nway pure facts. But you must overlook something now and then. It can't\nbe helped now; they are all here; you cannot chase them out of the\nhouse. The whole city would be stirred up about it.\n\nOSSEP. And what will people say when to-morrow or the day after my\ncreditors come and chase me out of my house?\n\nCHACHO. Oh, don't talk about such things!\n\nOSSEP [_sitting down at the card-table_]. That's easily said. But let me\ntell you, I feel as though the house was going to fall down on top of\nme.\n\nCHACHO. What has happened, Ossep?\n\nOSSEP. They say Barssegh Leproink has brought action against me.\n\nCHACHO. What? Brought action against you?\n\nOSSEP. I owe him money, and on that account he holds the knife at my\nthroat.\n\nCHACHO. God bless me!\n\nOSSEP. The wicked fellow has my note, and another security beside, and\nyet he will not wait.\n\nCHACHO. His match for wickedness cannot be found in the whole world.\n\nOSSEP. No, not another such miserable scoundrel! I expect every moment\nto be notified, and have no idea where I can get the money. Everyone I\nhave asked to help me has refused me. I can borrow no more on my note,\nand I cannot sell my goods at half price. That everyone must understand.\nThey all show their claws as soon as they find out the position I am in.\nSalome is to blame for all this; the 7,000 rubles she promised is the\ncause of it all. I would like to know who will pay them to him now.\n\nCHACHO. You talk nonsense! You will make your daughter unhappy forever,\nOssep.\n\nOSSEP. I am still more unhappy myself. But let us see what the coming\nday brings forth. I still have hope of one. Perhaps he will supply me\nwith money.\n\nCHACHO. How could you trust the scamp so blindly? Is such want of\nthought consistent with reason?\n\nOSSEP. What is the use of reason in this? I have always said I could not\nstand the expense that now everybody assumes. If a man conducts his\nbusiness honestly, he makes little profit; and as for a dishonest\nbusiness, I am not fit for that! So I have suffered one reverse after\nanother; and where I was most vulnerable I have been hit at last.\n\nCHACHO. Heavens! what do I hear? Why don't I sink into the earth?\n\nOSSEP. In our line of trade only a few persons carry on their business\nwith their own money. Most of us have to borrow. When I sell goods to\none, I pay my debt to the other. I sell goods to the third and pay to\nthe fourth; and so it goes in a circle, like a wheel drawing water,\nuntil one falls in the hands of a man who draws the needle out of the\nknitting and everything falls in pieces. Who is in a position to fight\nagainst such conditions? One must pay the store rent and the clerk's\nsalary, and beside that the interest on the working capital. Then there\nare the goods that are spoiled or stolen--and here at home! [_Striking\nthe cards_.] All this rubbish and more beside! [_Striking the table\nagain._] And the women are to blame for all this; if my wife had not\npromised 7,000 rubles, without my knowledge, the betrothal would not\nhave taken place, and this bad luck would not have come to me. But where\ndoes one find among our women insight and forethought? For model women\ngive me some foreign countries. There the women stand by the men in\neverything: the wife of a cook is a cook; the wife of a writer, a\nwriter; the wife of a merchant is in every case a merchant. They earn\njointly and spend jointly. With us the man is here only to make money\nfor them, so that they [_striking the table_] may kill time with foolish\nthings like this.\n\nCHACHO. Say, rather, that times are changed; for the men also sit at the\nclub all day and play cards.\n\nOSSEP. Ho! ho! As though women did not play cards also! Formerly the\ncards were solely our diversion; but they have taken them away from us.\nDon't worry yourself; with God's help they will be learning to play\nbilliards. Why do you dwell upon the fact that the men play cards? One\nin a thousand plays; while of a thousand women, nine hundred play. Men\nare always more moderate. They see that the times are hard, and have\ngiven up most of their earlier pleasures. Where are the banquets that\nused to be given, one after another? Where are the drinking-places where\nthe music played? They have given them up; and the women are just like\nthey were, only worse. To-day they arrange a picnic, to-morrow a little\nparty, and so on. The men stand gaping at them, and the children are\nleft to the servants. If I could take the law into my own hands, I'd\nsoon set them right.\n                    [_Paces to and fro in anger_.\n\nCHACHO [_rising, aside_]. He is right. All that he says is pure truth.\n                    [_Exit left_\n\n\n\n\nSCENE III\n\n_Ossep. Then Alexander_.\n\n\nOSSEP. O dear! O dear!\n[_Stands near fireplace; rests head on hand and remains motionless_.\n\nALEXANDER [_enter right_]. You have come, father? [_Silence--comes near\nOssep_.] Father.\n\nOSSEP. Ah! Alexander [_offering his hand_]. Please sit down. Have you\njust come?\n\nALEXANDER. No; I have been here a long time. I was in the garden.\n\nOSSEP. What is the news? [_Both sit down_.\n\nALEXANDER. Nothing, except that I wish to have a wedding next week.\n\nOSSEP. So soon?\n\nALEXANDER. Yes; my chief goes soon to Petersburg, and I want him to be\nat the wedding.\n\nOSSEP. And can't we wait till he comes back?\n\nALEXANDER. That would be too long.\n\nOSSEP. Very well. As you wish.\n\nALEXANDER [_stammering_]. But--my dear father--\n\nOSSEP. I understand; I understand. You want me to pay over the money at\nonce?\n\nALEXANDER. Yes, my dear father, if it is possible.\n\nOSSEP. I am sorry to confess that at the present moment I have no money\nat hand. You must wait a little. If you wish to marry without money,\nthat is your affair.\n\nALEXANDER. You amaze me!\n\nOSSEP. It is better for me to tell you this than to deceive you. You\nknow the law to some extent. Tell me, if I owe someone money on a note,\ncan my creditor bring action against me and put an execution on me\nwithout having me called before the court?\n\nALEXANDER. Is the note attested by a notary?\n\nOSSEP. Yes.\n\nALEXANDER. He has the right to come to your house and have everything\nput under seal.\n\nOSSEP. Without first bringing me into court?\n\nALEXANDER. Yes, without court proceedings.\n\nOSSEP. But if he has received on account of this debt the note of a\nthird person?\n\nALEXANDER. That is another thing. Have you a receipt for it?\n\nOSSEP. No; but I can take my oath on it.\n\nALEXANDER. According to law you must first pay the money and then\nproduce proofs that you gave him the other document.\n\nOSSEP [_excited_]. Is that true?\n\nALEXANDER. Yes, it is so.\n\nOSSEP [_wringing his hands and springing up_]. Then I am ruined. [_A\nsilence. Nato's voice is heard outside_.] Alexander, they are calling\nyou.\n\nALEXANDER [_approaching Ossep_]. What is it? For God's sake tell me the\ntruth.\n\nOSSEP. There, there. Go out first. They are calling you.\n\nALEXANDER [_aside, taking his hat_]. So far as I see, I am ruined also.\n                    [_Exit._\n\nOSSEP [_alone_]. What do I not suffer! If they really come here I shall\nperish through shame. Where can I find so much money in such a hurry?\nOne must have time for it, and that fellow may come to-day even--perhaps\nthis minute. Then I am lost--who will trust me then? My creditors will\ntie a rope around my neck and prevent me from saying a word in my own\nbehalf. \"Pay us,\" they will cry; \"pay us!\" O Salome, Salome!\n\n_Enter Gewo_.\n\nOSSEP. There he is.\n\nGEWO. Good-evening, Ossep.\n\nOSSEP. You have come, too. You want your money, too? Yes, choke me;\ndouble my debt; say that I owe you, not 2,000 rubles, but 4,000. Speak!\nYou are my creditor; speak! Have no pity on me. You want your money--why\ndo you wait, then? Slay me; tear my heart out of my body; hack me in\npieces and sell it piece by piece, so that your money shall not be lost.\n[_Gewo wipes his eyes_.] Weep, weep, for your money is lost. I am\nbankrupt--bankrupt!\n\nGEWO [_embracing Ossep_]. Dear Ossep, dear Ossep!\n\nOSSEP. You say \"dear\" to me? Yet you are my creditor.\n\nGEWO. Take courage; be a man!\n\nOSSEP. What kind of a man? I am a good-for-nothing; I have lost my good\nname [_weeping_]. My good name is gone. [_Wipes his eyes_.]\n\nGEWO. God is merciful, dear Ossep.\n\nOSSEP. God and heaven have taken their mercy from me. You see now where\nthe marriage of my daughter has led me? If I could at least pay you\neverything I owe you--that I must do at any price.\n\nGEWO. What are you saying, Ossep? If I had the means I would go on your\nbond. Why should I be your friend otherwise?\n\nOSSEP. If you had money, dear Gewo, you would not be my friend, nor have\nsuch a good heart. Stay poor as you are, so that I shall not lose your\nfriendship. Only your sympathy is left me in this world. I would not\nlike to lose your friendship. In this one day I have suffered\neverything. No one has shown interest in me; no one has given proof of\nhis sympathy--neither my uncle, nor my brother, nor my nephew. When they\nsaw I was near my last breath, they all forsook me and shut the door in\nmy face.\n\nGEWO. Come with me; perhaps we will find help somewhere.\n\nOSSEP. There can be no more talk of help.\n\nGEWO. Come, come; there is still a way out.\n\nOSSEP. What way out can there be?\n\nGEWO. Come, come; let us not delay.\n\nOSSEP. But tell me how is it to be managed?\n\nGEWO. Come, come! I will tell you on the way.\n\nOSSEP. What you say sounds very strange; tell me what it is. Speak, what\nhas occurred? Don't fear! Don't spare me! Whatever happens cannot be\nworse than what has happened; they have already sent a bullet into my\nheart, and what worse can they do to me, except tear open my breast and\ntake my heart out? Speak; what is it? Have they put seals on my store?\n\nGEWO. Come and you will see.\n\nOSSEP. They have put seals on it, then?\n\nGEWO. I tell--\n\nOSSEP. You are ruined, Ossep. [_Rushes to the table, seizes the box and\nscatters the cards; some fall on the floor_.] Now you may play; now you\nmay play.      [_Exit_.\n\nGEWO. Too bad; too bad about him!      [_Follows him_.\n\n\n\n\nSCENE IV\n\n_Enter Salome, Martha, Nino, Pepel, and many well-dressed ladies,\nfollowed by two footmen carrying candelabra and lamps, which they put on\nthe table_.\n\n\nSALOME. Take seats, please. The cards are already here.\n\nMARTHA. How pretty it is, isn't it? The cards are already dealt.\n                    [_The ladies converse smilingly with one another_.\n\nSALOME [_stepping forward and noticing the cards on the floor_].\nWhat is this? Who can have done it?\n\nMARTHA. Probably the cats ran over the table.\n\nSALOME. I cannot think how it could have happened! Please sit down.\n\n_Enter Nato and her friends_.\n\nSALOME [_collecting the cards_]. Who can have done it? Nato, did you do\nit?\n\nNATO. No, mamma, I did not touch them.\n\nSALOME [_to the guests_]. Sit down, I beg.\n\n[_All the guests sit down at the table, Nato and her friends sit on the\nother side of the stage. Salome, standing, deals the cards which the\nguests hand one to the other. Then they pay in the stakes to Salome,\nwhich she lays on the table in front of her_.\n\n_Enter Alexander_.\n\nNATO [_going to meet Alexander_]. Alexander, why were you so long?\n\nALEXANDER. I was obliged to be [_leading Nato aside excitedly, and in a\nwhisper_:] I have something to say to you.\n\nNATO [_in a whisper_]. What makes your hand tremble?\n\nALEXANDER. They have brought action against your father in the courts.\n\nNATO. What! For what reason?\n\nALEXANDER. Because of debts.\n\nNATO. Who told you so?\n\nALEXANDER. Your father himself.\n\nNATO [_laughing aloud_]. Ha! ha! ha! [_Whispering_:] My father has no\ndebts.\n\nALEXANDER. Well, he told me so himself.\n\nNATO. He was joking. Don't believe him.\n                    [_Goes over to her friends, laughing_.\n\nALEXANDER. Well, I can't make it out. I am not so stupid, however. Until\nI have the money in my hands I will not cross this threshold again.\n\nSALOME. Let us begin. [_Guests begin to play_.\n\n\n\n\nSCENE V\n\n_Enter Chacho_.\n\n\nCHACHO [_coming from left_]. Get this stuff out of the way.\n\nSALOME. What is the matter? What has happened?\n\nCHACHO. What was to happen? We are ruined. [_Behind the scenes are heard\nthreatening voices_:] \"Here! Yes! No.\" [_Then Ossep's voice_:] \"Come in,\ncome in.\"\n\nCHACHO [_to Salome_]. Do you not hear them?\n\n_Enter Barssegh through middle door_.\n\nBARSSEGH. This is really splendid! I work for my daily bread, and you\nilluminate your house on my money.\n\nCHACHO [_to Salome_]. Now you have it.\n\nSALOME [_rising_]. Are you mad? Show him out.\n\nBARSSEGH. I will show you pretty soon who is to be shown out.\n\nSALOME. Alexander, show this man out.\n\nALEXANDER [_to Barssegh_]. What do you want, sir? How can you indulge in\nsuch insolence?\n\nBARSSEGH. That is not your affair, sir! I demand my money. Demand yours\nalso if you can. You will be obliged to wait a long while for it.\n\nCHACHO [_to Barssegh_]. Have you no conscience?\n\nBARSSEGH. I want my money, and nothing more.\n\n_Enter Ossep, Gewo, a sheriff and his secretary, Dartscho, and several\nothers_.\n\nOSSEP [_opening the door with both hands as he enters_]. Come in! come\nin! [_The others follow him_.] Play, play and laugh as much as you will\nover my misfortunes!\n\nCHACHO [_aside_]. Now it is all over with us!\n\nSALOME. Tell me, for God's sake, the meaning of this.\n\nOSSEP. God will judge you and me also. [_To sheriff and others:_] Come,\nmake your inventory, put your seals on everything--the house, the\nfurniture, and on the cards, too.\n\nBARSSEGH. Make an inventory of everything.\n                    [_The sheriff lists furniture in the background\n                         and puts a ticket on each piece. The guests\n                         assemble, frightened, on the left side of the\n                         table_.\n\nSALOME [_beating her head_]. Good heavens!\n\nMARTHA. This is a disgrace for us as well.\n\nCHACHO [_in a low voice to Martha_]. You at least should be silent.\n\nOSSEP [_pointing to Barssegh_]. He has stripped me of my honor. Now you\nwill honor and esteem him. He will arrange for your parties. Yes, he,\nthe man who takes the shirt from my back and possesses himself of all my\nproperty.\n\nALEXANDER [_aside_]. I have my sister to thank for all this, who dragged\nme into this house.\n\nOSSEP [_ironically_]. Alexander, look for a dowry elsewhere, for I can\nno longer give my daughter one.\n\nALEXANDER [_angry_]. What, you deride me as well! I don't belong to your\nclass, sir!\n\nOSSEP. And has it come to this!\n\nALEXANDER [_taking his hat_]. I have not acquired my present dignity to\nlose it through you.\n\nOSSEP. Ha! ha! ha! His dignity!\n\nALEXANDER [_coming near Nato_]. I have loved you truly, Miss Nato, but I\nmust give you up. I am not to blame for it. Farewell.\n                    [_Goes to the door_.\n\n                    [_Barssegh laughs for joy_.\n\nOSSEP [_approaching Salome, who stands dismayed, takes her by the arm\nand points to the departing Alexander_]. There goes your official!\n\nNATO [_standing at the left near the sofa_]. Alexander! Alexander!\n[_Exit Alexander_.] Dear Alexander.\n                    [_Sitting down on the sofa, begins to cry_.\n\nSALOME [_in a low tone, striking her brow with both hands_].\nWhy doesn't the earth open and swallow me?\n\nOSSEP [_to Salome_]. Now you are punished, are you not? [_Turning to\nBarssegh_:] Take it all, now! Satisfy yourself! [_Takes off his coat_.]\nTake this also! [_Throws it to Barssegh_.] Yes, take it! [_Takes his cap\nfrom the table and throws it to Barssegh_.] Make off with this also; I\nneed it no longer.\n                    [_Runs to and fro as if distracted_.\n\nBARSSEGH [_in a low voice_]. Keep on giving!\n                    [_Turns to sheriff and speaks softly to him_.\n\nOSSEP [_taking up different articles from card table and throwing them\non the floor_]. Take these also! Take these also! [_Taking a lighted\ncandelabra and smashing it on the floor_] Stick that also down your\nthroat!\n\nSEVERAL OF THE GUESTS. The poor fellow is losing his wits.\n                    [_Nato crying; her friends comfort her. Salome faints_.\n\nCHACHO. Ossep! My dear Ossep!\n\nGEWO [_embracing Ossep_]. Be calm, dear Ossep. You behave like a madman.\n\nOSSEP [_after a pause_]. Gewo, I was mad when I settled in this city.\nThis life is too much for me; it was not for me. I am ruined. I am a\nbeggar. He is to be praised who comes off better than I.\n                    [_Exit._\n\nSALOME [_with her hand on her brow sinks down on the sofa, groaning\nloudly_]. Ah!\n\nGEWO. Poor Ossep!\n\nBARSSEGH [_turns from Dartscho, to whom he has been speaking, to the\nsheriff_]. What are you gazing around for, sir? Keep on with your\nwriting.\n                    [_Sheriff looks at Barssegh in disgust, sits down by\n                         card table and writes_.\n\nMARTHA [_to the guests_]. We have nothing more to look for here.\n[_Aside:_] A charming set!\n                    [_Goes toward middle door; some ladies follow; others\n                         stand offended_.\n\nCHACHO [_raising her eyes_]. Would that I had died long ago, so that I\nhad not lived to see this unfortunate day!\n\n\nCURTAIN.","title":"Armenian Literature: Comprising Poetry, Drama, Folk-lore and Classic Traditions;: Translated into English for the First Time","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":48059}