The beautiful PaÙna was proud, very proud. It was not for nothing that she had those great dark eyes, with black brows rising to a point above them, and that sharply-cut aquiline nose. Her mouth was somewhat large, but well-shaped, and when she spoke or laughed she showed two gleaming rows of teeth. Her black tresses were coiled like a crown above her brow, and the people were wont to call her, in jest, Pui de Imparat, or “Emperor’s child,” when she went by with her long stride and her broad shoulders, holding her head as straight as though she were carrying something upon it. But she was not too proud to turn that head when Tannas went by, or to give ear to him when he talked to her during the Hora. Only, if any one teased her about him, an angry flush would rise to her cheek, and she was quick to punish the daring offender with a sharp retort.

Tannas was an object of envy to all the other village lads, specially as the betrothal was looked upon as a certainty. Then, on a sudden, war broke out in the land, and Tannas had to join the army and march down to the Danube. PaÙna swallowed her tears before people; but no one dared ask her whether she did not shed a few in secret.

She always contrived to be one of the first in the village to get tidings from the army; and when tales went about of the first battles that had taken place, she was obliged, as she listened, to lean against the great stone cross that stood at the entrance of the village, so weak and faint did the strong PaÙna turn. At night all sleep forsook her, and she often had to let her light burn till morning, to chase away the terrible visions that arose before her in the darkness, of Tannas covered with wounds, and dead or dying. One dark night she was sitting thus, still dressed, upon the edge of her bed—and never knew that, outside, some one was gliding round the house, and peeping in at her little window. She did not know, either, how beautiful she looked, gazing before her with wide-open eyes, her hands folded upon her knee. All at once there was a knocking on the window, and she sprang up with a stifled cry, turning her head and trying to pierce the darkness with her eyes. Then she fancied she could make out the face of Tannas at the window, and presently, indeed, she heard him call her in low tones—

“PaÙna, dear PaÙna, I pray thee to come out to me. Do not be afraid; it is only I, Tannas.”

PaÙna’s hand was already upon the latch—in a moment she was outside, and felt herself enfolded in a warm embrace. But she put aside the arm that clasped her, and said: “Art thou Tannas indeed, or is some one making sport of me?”

“Here, feel thine own little ring, PaÙna; and here again, the coin about my neck. I could bear it no longer, without coming to see whether thou wert true to me.”

“Who gave thee leave to come away from the army?”

“Me? No one.”

“No one?—and thou art here? Is the war over, then?”

“Nay, there is still war. But I came secretly, and out of love to thee, PaÙna!”

“Love to me!” PaÙna gave a short, bitter laugh. “Dost thou think, then, that it gives me pleasure to have a deserter for my betrothed? Go out of my sight!”

“PaÙna! Is this thy love? Thou art sending me back to death and destruction!”

“Go whither thou wilt. This only I tell thee, I will never be thy wife—I could not endure to have to despise my husband.”

“Thou dost love some other!”

“Nay, Tannas, thee I love, and thee alone. I have many a time watched through the livelong night for love of thee; but I never dreamed that I had a coward for my lover!” PaÙna wept, burying her face in her hands.

“And I, who thought thou wouldst welcome me with joy, and hide me in thy dwelling!”

“Oh, shame!” cried the maiden—“shame! that I should have betrothed myself to thee. But this I swear, that the Bucegi Mountain shall burn ere I become thy wife!”

“And I swear,” cried Tannas, “that thou shalt not see me again till I am a cripple—or dead!”

And as they spoke thus, the two lovers faced one another with such burning glances that their eyes sparkled in the darkness.

Just then a red light shone out over the heights above, and looking up, they saw that one of the rocky peaks of the Bucegi seemed all aglow. Brighter and brighter it grew, till a red flame appeared to break out and send up a shower of stars on high. The two lovers stood as though turned to stone. Then windows began to open in the neighbouring houses, and the people to call out to one another that there was a forest fire—nay, that the mountain was burning! All the village was in an uproar—dogs began to bark and cocks to crow.

Thereupon PaÙna took her lover by the shoulders, and thrusting him far from her, she cried: “Away, away from hence—hide thy face, or I shall die of shame!”

Then she flung the door to behind her, and extinguished her light. With a beating heart she watched Tannas slip away in the shadow of the houses; and presently she turned her eyes to the mountain as it glowed and slowly grew dark again, but never an answer did she give when the neighbours called her to come and look at the miracle.

From that time forth people began to notice that PaÙna looked wonderfully pale; no smile was ever seen now upon her lips, that before had been wont so often to curl in mockery, and quick retorts no longer cut short the teasing words that folk called out to her as she passed. She did her work in silence, but was often so tired that she was obliged to sit down to rest upon the margin of the well, and bathe her forehead with the fresh water. Sometimes she would gaze sadly at her own reflection in the well, or glance timidly up towards the Bucegi Mountain. All at once it began to be bruited about that Tannas had been in the village; this person and that felt sure of having seen him by the light of the burning mountain, and it was even said that his voice had been heard with PaÙna’s. When the latter was questioned about it, the drops of sweat burst out upon her brow and round her lips, that trembled slightly as she replied: “Was not all still and dark in our house, the night that the mountain was on fire?”

PaÙna’s mother shook her head, till her very under lip quivered, and said that all manner of strange signs were to be seen in these evil days.

At last the news came that a great and deadly battle had been fought. This time PaÙna was the last to hear of it, but when she did, she hurried home and made a little bundle, tying up a gourd and some maize-bread in a cloth; and when her mother anxiously asked her whither she was going, she only said: “I shall soon come back again, mother; do not fear for me.”

The battlefield lay wide and silent in the twilight; thousands of dead bodies were scattered upon it; horses writhed in the death-throes, or limped about with drooping heads. The army was encamped around huge sentry-fires, and the men no longer gave any heed to the cries and wailings that echoed from the battlefield. A stately woman’s form moved alone amid the lines of bodies; it was PaÙna, who had already made inquiry after Tannas throughout the whole camp. She drew bravely near to both friend and foe, giving many a one a drink, and closely scanning the features of the dead. Night had now closed in, and the moon lit up the fearsome scene. Still the maiden moved to and fro, anon kneeling down and resting some dying man’s head upon her breast, and again searching some terribly disfigured corpse for a little ring, and a coin about the throat. Only once she staggered back, and that was when she beheld some women plundering a corpse, and heard the finger-joints crack as they dragged the rings from off the hand. She hastened away, but soon returned to scan the dead man’s face with anxiety.

The whole camp was sunk in slumber, but still PaÙna glided about the battlefield in the moonlight. Sometimes she would utter a low cry: “Tannasse!”—and often a groan would be heard in answer, but she always shook her head sadly, after bending to give the sufferer a drink. The dawn was beginning to break, and the moon to pale, when she suddenly saw something glitter on the ground, and drawing near, found a half-stripped, dead man lying there, on whose hand shone a little ring. And the hand had grasped something that the man wore about his neck, so firmly, that the plunderers had plainly given up trying to force the fingers open. PaÙna knew her own ring again, and with a loud cry of “Tannasse!” she sank down beside the body, whose face was so covered with blood that it was scarcely recognisable. In a few moments PaÙna came to herself again, and began to wash the beloved face. She saw, with fast-flowing tears, that both eyes and nose were gashed through by a terrible stroke, but she saw also that the blood gushed out again as she wiped it away. Now she was sure that her beloved was not dead, and she hastened to moisten his lips, and to bind up his wound with her kerchief. Then he began to sigh, and when he heard his name called, to feel about with his hand. Presently it touched PaÙna’s face, and lingered long upon it.

“My PaÙna!” he murmured almost inaudibly. “Let me die—I am blind—I am of no more use on earth!”

“Nay, nay!” cried PaÙna, “thou art my beloved, and, God willing, shalt be my husband soon. Only be still now, be still!”

Many long weeks had passed since that morning—weeks during which PaÙna had watched day and night by Tannas’s bed and nursed him untiringly. And now, one day, two wanderers were seen coming along the road into the village—a blind man in a soldier’s cloak, with the cross of honour upon his breast, and a maiden, who led him carefully along, and said to the passers-by, with a joyful smile: “This is my bridegroom. He is a hero! See the cross upon his breast!”

“And upon his face!” rejoined Tannas, with a sigh.

Never had such a crowded wedding been seen before. People streamed from far and near, to pity the beautiful PaÙna at the side of the blind man. But she smiled at every one, and said: “I am proud now. I have a hero for my husband; and, thank God, I am strong and can work for both.”

The mountain that had been seen on fire was from that day called Piatra Arsa (“the burnt rock”), for both shepherds and hunters bore witness that on that spot they had found the rock all blackened and charred.

[Pg 130]
[Pg 131]