All the guests rushed out to see her. And there she was, in a big flower-trimmed hat, with a silk parasol, and all the wonderful fineries. She looked so elegant, so superior that the village women, accustomed to their rural simplicity, felt overawed. The groom hurrying with throbbing heart to open the gates of the front-yard bowed almost to the ground to the dazzling reality of his romantic dreams. He was so confused by this apparition that he did not know whether to shout or cry. "My gracious, how she is made up!" whispered the women. "What a wonderful dress!" whispered the girls. "Ain't you Petka? You deary!" exclaimed the bride, affecting a foreign accent. "Yes, mademoiselle, gracious yes," stammered the groom nervously, wiping the tears of joy from his eyes. "Gee, Petka, you are a nice boy!" gushed the bride, trying to show the quality of her refinement. She took his both hands and whispered that he should kiss them gracefully in the American manner. Then she leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. These American manners so embarrassed the groom that he blushed and dropped his eyes. But after all, was she not a highly educated American lady? And of course, she knew what was proper. Though Liza looked ten years older than Petka, yet she had all the city air, the American manners and style, and most important of all, she had the capital. The first question Liza asked was whether they had a manicure, hair-dresser and boot-black in the village. No one had ever heard that such functionaries existed, so the groom explained excitedly that he would take her after the wedding to the town where she could get what she wanted. Petka carried the trunk and the five suit-cases into he house, implements which on one had ever seen. All the novelties and sensations were so great that the guests and the groom felt dazed for a moment. "Have you got here champagne?" asked the bride, entering the house. "We do not have such American drinks. We have kvas, beer, vodka and all the home-made cordials," stammered the groom. "But you must have some high-balls or cocktails at least," went on the bride with an affected gesture. "My gracious, there we are!" groaned the groom, and shrugged denyingly his shoulders. "We've never handled those things here, so you must forgive us." "Mademoiselle Liza, I beg your pardon," interrupted the inn-keeper seriously. "We can arrange the balls and the tails, but you see we are simply country people and keep our bowels in order. City amusements put our stomachs in a bad fix and don't agree with us."