Jasper County Democrat, Volume 18, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 July 1915 — A Betrothal [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A Betrothal

t t | Story of a Dancing | 1 Mania t

By F. A. MITCHEL

In medieval times on the coast of Denmark, overlooking the North sea, was a village the people of which made their living by fishing. Martin Aarhuus, who followed in the footsteps of his father in getting a living by his nets, wooed and won Maria Stah r, who was conceded to be tbe prettiest girl in the village. Maria hud pale blue eyes and a wealth of very light hair. As to her complexion, it was like milk tinged with rose leaves.

Unfortunately for the lovers, Maria's father was opposed to the match. lie was a covetous man and wished to save his daughter’s dowry. She was so beautiful that he believed some mau having a fair supply of this world's goods would be glad to marry her with out the customary settlement on her. lie found her with far more resolution than would be expected from beneath those mild eyes of hers. Martin, too. vowed that he would have the girl if be had to run away with her. The old man grew more and more angry, and at last, when* quarreling with Martin on the subject, said, in a lit of passion: "Before you shall possess my daughter I will give her to the devil.” Considering that the words were spoken in anger, nothing was thought of them. In spite of the old man's opposition, the lovers clung to each other and at last summoned their friends to witness their betrothal.

Since the gathering could not take place at Maria’s home on account of her father's opposition, the guests were invited to meet at the house of Martin's parents. While the festivities attending the betrothal were in progress old Stahr was at home grinding his teeth, though his wife was present at the betrothal. When early in the evening the guests, recognizing that the occasion was one of sorrow rather than enjoyment, were thinking of returning to their homes there came a rap at the door, and on its being opened a tall, thin man in red doublet and hose, black breeches and a black velvet cap on his head, ornamented with a single red feather, stood in the opening. "Good people,” he said, “I am a traveler from the south on my way to Copenhagen. Not being used to your climate, lam benumbed with cold. I beg shelter of you and something to eat.”

No one in those days would think of turning away a traveler who asked to be taken in. and the stranger wa3 made welcome. Some of the viands that had been prepared for the betrothal, with a flagon of wine, were set before him, and he ate and drank heartily. After he had finished and wiped his lips with a napkin, giving his mustache a slight upturn, he seemed to be much refreshed.

“How can I repay you,” he asked, “for your hospitality? I am aware that no one, except one entertained at an inn, would offer money. I see that you are gathered to make merry. May ,1 not do something to enliven you?” “We need some one,” said Martin, “to put spirit into us. We are met to celebrate a betrothal. I am to marry this maiden.” pointing to Maria, “but you would suppose from her lugubrious appearance that I was going to do her harm.”

A shock passed through the assemblage at this harsh remark of Milan's concerning his betrothed, so unlike him, for throughout all old Stalir’s opposition Martin had been singularly tender with his beloved. As for Maria, she cast an indignant glance at him and, advancing to the stranger, put her hand on his arm and, leading him from one to another of her guests, introduced him. Martin watched them with flashing eyes, and it was apparent that a turmoil had been stirred within him. It was evident that there was soihething In the coming of this stranger

that made a great change in the spirit of the assemblage and especially in the ( Pair whose betrothal they had come together to celebrate. In a twinkling he ! “eemed to have irritated Martin and insinuated himself into Maria's good graces. Presently it began —to appear that he had enthralled her. The sad look she had worn before was now changed to merriment. She chatted briskly with her companion and laughed gleefully at everything lie said. When walking with him and passing Martin she either did not deign to look nt him or regarded him with hate. Maria’s mother saw all this, as did every one else, and was desirous of i doing something to break it up. She accosted the stranger thus: ! “Good sir, do you not play on any musical instrument or sing?” "I will sing for you with pleasure. Have you a barp?’ ! The woman brought one of.those rude cases on which catgut was stretched and from which have been developed our modem stringed instruments. He struck a chord, and in an instant silence fell on the assembly. There was something weird in it that no one present had ever heard before. Then he began to sing. Every person within sound of his voice was thrilled with a strange sensation. He began low and j soft, as If singing a lullaby to a child, gradually rising till his song had all the wildness of a storm wind passing through the rigging of a ship. Then, after a succession of demoniac notes, his voice fell into a basso profundo, giving an impression that infernal fires were rumbling in the bowels of the earth.

Meanwhile Maria had kept her eyes fixed on him. spellbound. Martin, who was watching her, no\y and again half drew a short dirk he carried In his belt, as* if about to plunge it in the stranger's heart. But every time he did so something in the song unnerved him. and lie let the knife slide hack into its scabbard. When the song ceased Maria's mother made another attempt to change the conditions. She asked tile Stranger if he would not play for the company to dance. Immediately he struck a chord that shot a current of exhilaration through every one present. lie struck another, and all began to sway. A third drew men and women together in couples. Then began the merriest music that had ever been heard in that quiet village. First the younger persons present

went spinning over the floor, then those who were older, till all were whirling. Children, youths, married persons and white haired old men and women were dancing merrily, while shouts of laughter accompanied the spirited music to which they moved. Tlie longer they danced the wilder grew their antics. Most of them wore Wooden shoes, and the clatter was deafening. Now and again when a dancer kicked high his shoe would fly off and go sailing across the room. But no one paid any attention to the missiles, though they were in danger

of receiving Serious injury. Persons who had not been invited to tlie betrothal, hearing the noise, came to the windows and looked in. So catching was the music and the dancing that before long couples were moving on the sidewalk in a wild whirl. As the dance went on these were joined by others till it seemed as if the whole town were bent on beating the pavements with their wooden shoes In crazy capers. The man who made this mad music, seeing Maria dance past him without a partner, dropped his instrument and put an arm about her, and the two went whirling like the rest. The legend goes that the music went on without the musician, though some versions have it that by this time the people were so crazed that music was not needed to keep them in their mad dance. In vain old Aarhuus and his wife endeavored to call a halt within, and the mayor of the town tried to stop the dancing without. It was all the mayor and old Aarhuus and his wife could do to refrain from dancing themselves. Finally there was a clap of thunder, and a sudden silence fell on all the village. Persons stood looking at one another, wondering why they had been dancing now that they had no desire to dance. In the house where the betrothal was celebrated all the candles went out. They were at once relighted. and everybody began to look for everybody else. Martin was there, pale and haggard. He had been dancing more wildly than any one else and showed the effect more than others. Then cries arose: “Where’s the stranger who bewitched us?” “Where’s Maria?” A search revealed neither of them. A girl said when the clap of thunder came she had seen the stranger and Maria whirl up in the air and disappear above the housetops. One gave one story; another gave another. Martin seemed paralyzed. He was thinking what old Stahr had said on one occasion, “Before you shall possess my daughter I will give her to the devil.” For a long while the legend was that Maria was never seen again on earth. Then after men's minds had been

broadened it ran that when the clap came the stranger was about to spirit Maria away, but met the village priest, who was coming with a view to quieting the tumult, and the stranger, catching sight of the cross suspended to the father’s rosary, slunk awayr and disappeared This version adds that Maria was found at her father’s house, and the old man, horrified that he had so nearly given his daughter to Satan, relented, gave his consent to the match, and Martin and Maria were married. But when they went to the church for the ceremony Maria carried a cross with her, fearing the devil might be on the watch for her and spirit her away.

“WE NEED SOME ONE,” SAID MARTIN, “TO PUT SPIRIT INTO US.”