Last Tuesday we had just done dinner at about seven,and stepped out into the balcony to look at the remains of the sunset behind the mountains,when we heard very distinctly a band of music,which rather excited my astonishment,as a solitary organ is the utmost that toils up here.I went out of the room for a few minutes,and,on my returning,Emily said,'Oh!That band is playing at the farmer's near here.The daughter is fiancee to-day,and they have a ball.'I said,'I wish I was going!''Well,'replied she,'the farmer's wife did call to invite us.''Then I shall certainly go,'I exclaimed.I applied to Madame B.,who said she would like it very much,and we had better go,children and all.Some of the servants were already gone.We rushed away to put on some shawls,and put off any shred of black we might have about us (as the people would have been quite annoyed if we had appeared on such an occasion with any black),and we started.When we reached the farmer's,which is a stone's throw above our house,we were received with great enthusiasm;the only drawback being,that no one spoke French,and we did not yet speak Piedmontese.We were placed on a bench against the wall,and the people went on dancing.
The room was a large whitewashed kitchen (I suppose),with several large pictures in black frames,and very smoky.I distinguished the Martyrdom of Saint Sebastian,and the others appeared equally lively and appropriate subjects.Whether they were Old Masters or not,and if so,by whom,I could not ascertain.The band were seated opposite us.Five men,with wind instruments,part of the band of the National Guard,to which the farmer's sons belong.
They played really admirably,and I began to be afraid that some idea of our dignity would prevent me getting a partner;so,by Madame B.'s advice,I went up to the bride,and offered to dance with her.Such a handsome young woman!Like one of Uwins's pictures.Very dark,with a quantity of black hair,and on an immense scale.The children were already dancing,as well as the maids.After we came to an end of our dance,which was what they called a Polka-Mazourka,I saw the bride trying to screw up the courage of her fiance to ask me to dance,which after a little hesitation he did.And admirably he danced,as indeed they all did--in excellent time,and with a little more spirit than one sees in a ball-room.In fact,they were very like one's ordinary partners,except that they wore earrings and were in their shirt-sleeves,and truth compels me to state that they decidedly smelt of garlic.Some of them had been smoking,but threw away their cigars when we came in.The only thing that did not look cheerful was,that the room was only lighted by two or three oil-lamps,and that there seemed to be no preparation for refreshments.Madame B.,seeing this,whispered to her maid,who disengaged herself from her partner,and ran off to the house;she and the kitchenmaid presently returning with a large tray covered with all kinds of cakes (of which we are great consumers and always have a stock),and a large hamper full of bottles of wine,with coffee and sugar.
This seemed all very acceptable.The fiancee was requested to distribute the eatables,and a bucket of water being produced to wash the glasses in,the wine disappeared very quickly--as fast as they could open the bottles.But,elated,I suppose,by this,the floor was sprinkled with water,and the musicians played a Monferrino,which is a Piedmontese dance.Madame B.danced with the farmer's son,and Emily with another distinguished member of the company.It was very fatiguing--something like a Scotch reel.
My partner was a little man,like Perrot,and very proud of his dancing.He cut in the air and twisted about,until I was out of breath,though my attempts to imitate him were feeble in the extreme.At last,after seven or eight dances,I was obliged to sit down.We stayed till nine,and I was so dead beat with the heat that I could hardly crawl about the house,and in an agony with the cramp,it is so long since I have danced."
A MARRIAGE
The wedding of the farmer's daughter has taken place.We had hoped it would have been in the little chapel of our house,but it seems some special permission was necessary,and they applied for it too late.They all said,"This is the Constitution.There would have been no difficulty before!"the lower classes ****** the poor Constitution the scapegoat for everything they don't like.So as it was impossible for us to climb up to the church where the wedding was to be,we contented ourselves with seeing the procession pass.It was not a very large one,for,it requiring some activity to go up,all the old people remained at home.It is not etiquette for the bride's mother to go,and no unmarried woman can go to a wedding--I suppose for fear of its ****** her discontented with her own position.
