Toward October our house was finished. It looked like a plaid where the logs showed blackened by the fire. Soon we celebrated the wedding, and my father-in-law became duly drunk and laughed with a full throat, like Satan at some success. My mother-in-law was silent and smiled at us through her tears.
"Stop crying!" Titoff roared at her. "What a son-in-law we have! Such a righteous one!"
Then he swore at her thoroughly.
We had important guests—the priest was there, of course, and the land commissioner, and two district elders, and various other pike among the carp. The village people had assembled under our windows, and among them Savelko made himself popular, for he was gay up to his last days. I sat at the window and heard the jingling of his balalaika and his thin voice pierced my ear. For though he was afraid to make his jokes too loud, still I heard him sing distinctly:
"Hurry and drink till you burst,
Eat yourself full till you split."
His jokes amused me, though I had something else to think about then. Olga nestled up to me and whispered:
"If only all this eating and drinking were over!"
The gluttony went against her, and to me, too, the sight of it was disgusting.
When we were alone we burst into tears, sitting and embracing each other on the bed; we wept and laughed together at our great unforeseen happiness in our marriage. All night we did not sleep, but kissed each other and planned how we would live with each other. We lit the candle in order to see each other better.
"We will live so that all will love us. It is good to be with you, Matvei."