The Foreigner | Page 8

a
very considerable strain; the known presence of a dray load of beer
kegs in the neighbourhood would almost certainly intensify the strain
beyond the breaking point. But as the shadows of evening began to
gather, the great brewery dray with its splendid horses and its load of
kegs piled high, drew up to Paulina's door. Without loss of time, and
under the supervision of Rosenblatt and Jacob himself, the beer kegs
were carried by the willing hands of Paulina's boarders down to the
cellar, piled high against the walls, and carefully counted. There they
were safe enough, for every man, not only among the boarders but in
the whole colony, who expected to be present at the feast, having
contributed his dollar toward the purchase of the beer, constituted

himself a guardian against the possible depredations of his neighbours.
Not a beer keg from this common store was to be touched until after the
ceremony, when every man should have a fair start. For the preliminary
celebrations during the evening and night preceding the wedding day
the beer furnished by the proprietor of the New West Hotel would
prove sufficient.
It was considered a most fortunate circumstance both by the bride and
groom-elect, that there should have appeared in the city, the week
before, a priest of the Greek Catholic faith, for though in case of need
they could have secured the offices of a Roman priest from St.
Boniface, across the river, the ceremonial would thereby have been
shorn of much of its picturesqueness and efficacy. Anka and her people
had little regard for the services of a Church to which they owed only
nominal allegiance.
The wedding day dawned clear, bright, and not too cold to forbid a
great gathering of the people outside Paulina's house, who stood
reverently joining with those who had been fortunate enough to secure
a place in Paulina's main room, which had been cleared of all beds and
furniture, and transformed for the time being into a chapel. The Slav is
a religious man, intensely, and if need be, fiercely, religious; hence
these people, having been deprived for long months of the services of
their Church, joined with eager and devout reverence in the responses
to the prayers of the priest, kneeling in the snow unmoved by and
apparently unconscious of the somewhat scornful levity of the curious
crowd of onlookers that speedily gathered about them. For more than
two hours the religious part of the ceremony continued, but there was
no sign of abating interest or of waning devotion; rather did the
religious feeling appear to deepen as the service advanced. At length
there floated through the open window the weirdly beautiful and stately
marriage chant, in which the people joined in deep-toned guttural
fervour, then the benediction, and the ceremony was over. Immediately
there was a movement toward the cellar, where Rosenblatt, assisted by
a score of helpers, began to knock in the heads of the beer kegs and to
hand about tin cups of beer for the first drinking of the bride's health.
Beautiful indeed, in her husband's eyes and the eyes of all who beheld
her, appeared Anka as she stood with Jacob in the doorway, radiant in
the semi-barbaric splendour of her Slavonic ancestry.

This first formal health-drinking ceremony over, from within Paulina's
house and from shacks roundabout, women appeared with pots and
pails, from which, without undue haste, but without undue delay, men
filled tin cups and tin pans with stews rich, luscious, and garlic
flavoured. The feast was on; the Slav's hour of rapture had come. From
pot to keg and from keg to pot the happy crowd would continue to pass
in alternating moods of joy, until the acme of bliss would be attained
when Jacob, leading forth and up and down his lace-decked bride,
would fling the proud challenge to one and all that his bride was the
fairest and dearest of all brides ever known.
Thus with full ceremonial, with abundance of good eating, and with
multitudinous libations, Anka was wed.

CHAPTER IV
THE UNBIDDEN GUEST

The northbound train on the Northern Pacific Line was running away
behind her time. A Dakota blizzard had held her up for five hours, and
there was little chance of making time against a heavy wind and a
drifted rail. The train was crowded with passengers, all impatient at the
delay, as is usual with passengers. The most restless, if not the most
impatient, of those in the first-class car was a foreign-looking
gentleman, tall, dark, and with military carriage. A grizzled moustache
with ends waxed to a needle point and an imperial accentuated his
foreign military appearance. At every pause the train made at the little
wayside stations, this gentleman became visibly more impatient,
pulling