Boghos Effendi forbade his son to go away from the farm again, and the days that followed were very long for our little friend, so he was glad when his father told him that they would soon be going back to Van. Winter sets in early on these high table-lands, and Boghos Effendi wanted to get home before cold weather. The shepherds were very sorry to see Archag go; his high spirits had brightened their monotonous days, and they made him promise to come back another summer.

The journey home was accomplished without any remarkable adventures, and at the end of three weeks Archag was once more in his mother’s arms. “How nice it is to be at home!” he kept saying, over and over again.

A week after his arrival he resumed his lessons. He had well-nigh forgotten them during his holidays, and had to work hard and steadily to catch up with his schoolmates. During the long winter evenings he never tired of talking about his journey, and of the Highland Farm, and everything he had seen. Levon listened with mouth wide open, in rapt admiration of his older brother.

An important event now turned the current of the boys’ thoughts into a new channel, and occupied all their spare hours. Jousif hodja had asked Boghos Effendi for the hand of Nizam, and the Feast of Saint Sylvester was set for the wedding-day. So from November on, the house was like a bee-hive, for there was the trousseau to be finished, and purchases had to be made, to say nothing of the preparations for the wedding feast. As the days passed, the excitement increased. Every afternoon the neighbors came to offer their help and gratify their curiosity. They examined the presents, criticised them, and expressed their opinions, to the great exasperation of old Gulenia, who scolded them roundly.

Archag and Levon wrote the invitations, and helped in the kitchen whenever there were eggs to be beaten and dough to be stirred.

The morning of the wedding-day came at last. Nizam, arrayed in rose-colored silk, sat in the middle of the reception room; her head was covered with a veil held at the temples by large gold sequins. She sat stiff and silent, for propriety forbade her to open her mouth on this day even to reply to the congratulations of her relatives and friends. Archag, always a tease, declared that she would make up for it later. Her face was pale, and there were dark rings around her eyes; she had been up since dawn and was still fasting, for she was to make her Communion in church after hearing the nuptial Mass. She cast envious glances at her guests, who were eating and drinking, and apparently enjoying themselves very much.

About eleven o’clock, the firing of cannon announced that it was time to start for church. Nizam rose, and her mother drew the veil over her face; then two youths set her on a white horse which was waiting for her in the courtyard. The young bride of the Orient has to make a show of resistance as an expression of sorrow at leaving her father and mother, and the friends of the bridegroom must drag her out of the house by force. The parents, for their part, bewail the departure of their daughter.

Nizam was fairly successful in feigning a sorrow which she really did not feel at all, for she loved Jousif hodja. With one hand she held the bridle of her horse, and with the other she pressed to her bosom a mirror, a symbol of the purity which she was to bring to her husband. All her friends followed, uttering cries of grief. The bridegroom and his friends were awaiting Nizam’s retinue in front of the Cathedral. When they saw the company enter the square, they gave shouts of welcome and fired pistols in token of their joy.

Nizam knelt down beside Jousif while the choir boys sang a charagan (hymn). The Bishop, vested in his chimere had ascended the steps of the altar: he intoned the Mass, and asked the betrothed if they desired to become husband and wife, and upon their assent, he gave them the Host, and held the chalice for them to drink of the red wine, the blood of Jesus Christ. Then, as they knelt together, he blessed them with an ivory crucifix, slipped the wedding-ring over their fingers, and thus united them for the sharing of the joys and sorrows of life. Then Nizam and Jousif stood up, and more charagans were sung, interspersed with the firing of guns and cannon.

The religious ceremony over, the bridal pair and their guests went to the house of Jousif hodja, where a great collation awaited them. The plates were heaped with portions of turkey, goose, woodcock and grouse; then came a course of pastry and Turkish sweets: baklava1 with pistachio and hazel nuts, walnut cakes, lokums2 melting in the mouth, preserved peaches and plums, orangeade, cedrats, colored sugar-plums, and brown and white nougat. Coffee was served in tiny silver cups, passed around by the servants; some of the guests preferred sherbets (iced drinks) flavored with rose, violet or vanilla.

All were happy and gay: the bridal pair alone were not expected to take part in the general merriment, but sat in formal silence, enthroned at the head of the table.

A white-haired bard sang this ancient ballad, accompanying himself on the tamboura:

The old musician played sad and mournful harmonies on his tamboura. The guests listened, gazing into the infinite, and dreaming of their unhappy country.

Gradually they all withdrew; the parents took leave of their cherished daughter, weeping, for they were not to see her again for nine months.4 Archag walked in front, carrying the lantern.