“Pilaaf![2] how jolly!” and Archag ran gayly toward the house. He burst into the kitchen like a gust of wind, went to his father, Boghos[3] Effendi, and kissed his hand, threw his books into a corner, took off his slippers,[4] and then sat down on the floor between his mother and his little brother Levon.
At Van, as in other remote towns in Asia Minor, chairs and tables were still objects of luxury, and were rarely seen. People just sat down on the floor.
Boghos Effendi was a tall man about forty years of age. Like his sons, he wore the zouboun, a long robe with a flannel girdle, opening over white cotton trousers; on his head he wore a turban of yellow silk. His wife, Hanna badgi,[5] the mother of our little friends, wore a brown silk dress made in European fashion. Her hair hung down over her shoulders in two long black braids. We have already made the acquaintance of pretty Nizam and Levon. Two menservants, Bedros and Krikor,[6] and an old serving woman named Gulenia, completed the family circle.
Seated around an earthenware tray,[7] each one, armed with a large spoon, dipped at will into a dish of pilaaf. On their knees they had, each one, a large piece of bread piled with olives, but this bread was quite different from ours; it was thin and flat, rather like a soft pancake than bread. For ten minutes no sound was heard but the crunching of jaws and the clatter of spoons (sounds which I would by no means advise my readers to imitate); then, before standing up, each rinsed the mouth and fingers again in a bowl of water.
HAPPY ARMENIA
After supper, Archag and Levon ran off together to the stable to say good-night to their favorite little goat. Because of the terrible cold which prevails in Asia Minor during several months of the year, the stables are built under the ground; in this way they have the advantage of being warm in winter and very cool in summer. Boghos Effendi had a stable for the horses, one shed for the sheep and another for the goats. Our two children had brought a handful of salt from the kitchen, and the pretty Belette seemed to consider it a treat. Levon amused himself by pulling the long silky hairs of the little animal, a magnificent Angora goat. They would no doubt have stayed all night with their horned friends if their mamma had not called them in to go to bed. And even when called they did not obey very promptly; it was so delightful in the stable.
When they got back to the house they took a large mattress and a thick wadded coverlet and spread them on the floor. In one corner of the room there stood a little altar with a picture of Saint Gregory the Illuminator,[8] dimly lighted by a night lamp. The two children knelt down before the picture of their patron saint to say their prayers. Then they took off their zoubouns and stockings, rolled themselves up in a quilt, and were soon fast asleep in spite of the hardness of their bed. The people of the Orient are not accustomed to iron and wooden beds like ours.
After supper Nizam had gone, as was her habit, to sit on a great rock high above the house. At her feet was spread the lake, with its marvelous frame of high mountains whose snow-crowned peaks, now flushing red in the rays of the setting sun, seemed to be in the heart of a vast fire. But the young Armenian girl had no eyes for the beauty of the landscape; she was thinking of her mother whose delicate health caused her great anxiety.
Twilight falls rapidly in the Orient, and now the jackals were yelping, and the dogs were howling in reply, and the moon, a pale yellow crescent, was reflected in the dark waters of the lake. Aroused from her reverie by the growing darkness, Nizam hurried back to the house, where her parents were waiting for her that they might close the doors. Orientals go to bed soon after the sun, and before long perfect stillness reigned in the solitary house.