A Bride of the Plains

ll wait

e sharp clang of a bell has announced the doleful fact that in half an hour the train will start for Arad, thence to Brassó, where t

still to say that has been left unsaid, so many kisse

d and wrinkled like winter apples, they carry huge baskets on their arms, over-filled with the last delicacies which their fond, toil-w

ask of Hungarian wine was tapped in Ignácz Goldstein's cellar-feel the intoxication of the departure now,

ice thirty years ago gives sundry good advice-no rebellion, quiet obedience, no use complaining or grumbling, the three years are quickly over. The mother begs her darling not to give way to drink, and

around the barn in search of the sweetheart; he wants one more

r him; the rich uncle Lakatos Pál, with whom he has lived hither

r and mother the slip, and j

e glare of the brilliant sun. Andor puts his arm round her wais

that border it. They feel neither heat, nor dust, and say but little as they walk. From behind them, muffle

one girl in

s my own

must God's l

ght of givin

?" asked Andor, with deep,

lied the girl simply, "if the goo

in yourself," he urged, "if o

such a long ti

s that separate us, El

ill be cou

lately he has felt that he needed a rest, and that he means to ask me to see to everything for him. He will give me th

t, and found it more beautiful than anything else in life. The paths looked so smooth and so inviting, and fairy forms beckoned to her from afar; it all would have been so easy, if only the good God had willed it so. She thought of the many sins which-in her innocent life-s

like, she felt that she would have loved him just as much and more, if he were less vigorous, less powerful; and in that case the wicked governme

vitality in him which made him what he was, strong in body and strong in soul; his love was strong because his body was strong, as was his soul

e girl closer and closer to him, unmindful of his surroundings, unmindful that he was on the high road, and that

the business of the morning, or too much accustomed to these final scenes of farewell and tenderness e

dor reiterated over and over again; "you

r," replied the gi

rning and every evening when I say my prayers, I shall ask my guardian angel to fly over t

she said earnestly, "the se

as far as that next acacia tree. There no one w

was going away so soon and for so long. So they walked as far as the next acacia tre

means to me to leave you. You are the one woman in the world for me, and I will thank

the train would be starting. It meant a week in prison in Arad for any recruit to miss the tr

on; here they had ensconced themselves in full view of the train and were p

t Marosfalva and joined in the bustle and the singing. They had got over the pang of departure from home half an hour or an hour ago; they had already left the weeping mothers and sweethearts behind, so now they set

o use losing a good seat whilst indulging in a final kiss or tear. There was a general stampede for the carriages and trucks; the recruits on ahead, behind them the trail of women, the mothers wit

the last of his lads. He has tucked his soutane well up under his sash, and he i

Pater!

carriages, and he hurries on, grasping each

red cotton handkerchief wanders surreptitiously f

stly, "remember your confession and

in protesting acc

-a regular confession and holy communion and holy mass on S

d then we are off. The gipsies are playing the saddest of sad songs, i

one girl in

and silent. They look with dull, unseeing gaze on this railway train, the engine, the carriages, which will take their lads away from them. Many have climbed up on the steps of the carriages, hanging on to the handrails, so as to

els-there will be a fearful accident if they are not driven off by force. And they will yield only to fo

t always see their sons, herded in with forty or fifty other lads in a truck, some standing, some squatting on the ground, or on the p

do not speak, because they are fighting for places on the steps of the railway-carriages, where the boys are; they press their l

ting former experiences of entraining, or recruiting, of those abominable three years; and the young girls-the

or, with his feet down on the step below, and refuses to quit his position for anyone. Several lads from the rear ha

the whole village know it, or the whole countryside, they do not care; they are not going to deprive themselves of these last few minu

ove

ll wait

pe of the future. With these words engraved upon heart and memory they

ng ago. Now they can afford to wait, and Andor will do it with confidence, he is a man and he is free. He viewed the futur

almost fell to wishing that the train would start quickly-so man

of her own destiny; there are so many difficulties in the path of her life which she would like to forget at this moment, so as not to embitter the happines

eth time, and for the twentieth time her lips murmur an

goes t

presses her closely, ever more closely to his hea

volving wheels. The gipsy musicians strike up the first spirited bars of the Rákóczy March, as with much puffing and

on! m

ó! my

án

nd

lution of the wheels takes the lads a

me?" comes as a final,

standing there, quite still-a small image of beauty and of sorrow. The sun glints upon her hair, it shines and sparkles like living gold; her h

the carriage at the door of which can still be seen the head of son or brother or sweetheart. But now the e

t running . . . alongside the train first of all, then they must needs fall back-but still they run along the metals, even though the train mo

for over a kilomètre, they run long aft

till. She did not try

of farewell, through all the noise and the bustle, Andor'

u will wa