Korzh saw the sacks,—­and was mollified.  “Such a Petrus, quite unheard of! yes, and did I not love him?  Was he not to me as my own son?” And the old fellow carried on his fiction until it reduced him to tears.  Pidorka began to tell him how some passing gypsies had stolen Ivas; but Petro could not even recall him—­to such a degree had the Devil’s influence darkened his mind!  There was no reason for delay.  The Pole was dismissed, and the wedding-feast prepared; rolls were baked, towels and handkerchiefs embroidered; the young people were seated at table; the wedding-loaf was cut; banduras, cymbals, pipes, kobzi, sounded, and pleasure was rife . . .

A wedding in the olden times was not like one of the present day.  My grandfather’s aunt used to tell—­what doings!—­how the maidens—­in festive head-dresses of yellow, blue, and pink ribbons, above which they bound gold braid; in thin chemisettes embroidered on all the seams with red silk, and strewn with tiny silver flowers; in morocco shoes, with high iron heels—­danced the gorlitza as swimmingly as peacocks, and as wildly as the whirlwind; how the youths—­with their ship-shaped caps upon their heads, the crowns of gold brocade, with a little slit at the nape where the hair-net peeped through, and two horns projecting, one in front and another behind, of the very finest black lambskin; in kuntushas of the finest blue silk with red borders—­stepped forward one by one, their arms akimbo in stately form, and executed the gopak; how the lads—­in tall Cossack caps, and light cloth svitkas, girt with silver embroidered belts, their short pipes in their teeth—­skipped before them, and talked nonsense.  Even Korzh could not contain himself, as he gazed at the young people, from getting gay in his old age.  Bandura in hand, alternately puffing at his pipe and singing, a brandy-glass upon his head, the gray-beard began the national dance amid loud shouts from the merry-makers.  What will not people devise in merry mood!  They even began to disguise their faces.  They did not look like human beings.  They are not to be compared with the disguises which we have at our weddings nowadays.  What do they do now?  Why, imitate gypsies and Moscow pedlers.  No! then one used to dress himself as a Jew, another as the Devil:  they would begin by kissing each other, and ended by seizing each other by the hair. . . .  God be with them! you laughed till you held your sides.  They dressed themselves in Turkish and Tartar garments.  All upon them glowed like a conflagration, . . . and then they began to joke and play pranks. . . .  Well, then away with the saints!  An amusing thing happened to my grandfather’s aunt, who was at this wedding.  She was dressed in a voluminous Tartar robe, and, wine-glass in hand, was entertaining the company.  The Evil One instigated one man to pour vodka over her from behind.  Another, at the same moment, evidently not by accident, struck a light, and touched it to her; . . . the flame flashed up; poor aunt, in terror, flung her robe from her, before them all. . . .  Screams, laughter, jest, arose, as if at a fair.  In a word, the old folks could not recall so merry a wedding.