Rila myself.'
"'Rila?' Ranov weighed the journal in his hand. 'Very well. We will make that our next excursion. It may be possible the day after tomorrow. I will send a message to you, Professor, to let you know when you can meet us there.'
"'Couldn't we go tomorrow?' I tried to sound casual.
"'So you are in a hurry?' Ranov raised his eyebrows. 'It takes time to arrange such a large request.' "Stoichev nodded. 'We will wait patiently, and the professors can enjoy the sights of Sofia until then. Now, my friends, this has been a pleasant exchange of ideas, but Kiril and Methodii will not mind if we also eat, drink, and be merry, as they say. Come, Miss Rossi - ' He extended his fragile hand to Helen, who helped him up. 'Give me your arm and we will go to celebrate a day of teaching and learning.'
"The other guests had begun to gather under the trellis, and we soon saw why: three of the younger men were taking musical instruments out of their bags and setting up near the tables. A lanky fellow with a shock of dark hair was testing the keys of a black-and-silver accordion. Another man had a clarinet. He played a few notes while the third musician got out a large skin drum and a long stick with a padded tip. They sat down in three chairs close together and grinned at one another, played a warble or two, adjusted their seats. The clarinet player removed his jacket.
"Then they exchanged glances and were off, spinning out of nowhere the liveliest music I had ever heard. Stoichev beamed from his throne behind the roast lamb, and Helen, sitting next to me, squeezed my arm. It was a tune that whirled up into the air like a cyclone, then jolted along in a rhythm unfamiliar to me but irresistible once my toe had caught it. The accordion panted in and out and notes soared from the accordionist's fingers. I was astounded by the speed and energy with which they all played. The sound brought whoops of joy and encouragement from the crowd.
"After only a few minutes, some of the men listening jumped up, grabbing one another's belts behind the waist, and began a dance as lively as the tune. Their highly polished shoes lifted and stamped on the grass. They were soon joined by several women in sober dresses, who danced with their upper bodies erect and still, their feet a blur. The dancers' faces were radiant; they all smiled as if they couldn't help it, and the teeth of the accordionist flashed in response. The man at the front of the line had produced a white pocket handkerchief and he held it high to lead them, whirling it around and around. Helen's eyes were very bright, and she tapped her hand on the table as if she couldn't stay still. The musicians played on and on, while the rest of us cheered and toasted them and drank, and the dancers showed no sign of stopping. At last the tune ended and the line fell apart, each dancer wiping off copious sweat and laughing aloud. The men came to refill their glasses, and the women searched for handkerchiefs and touched up their hair, chuckling together.
"Then the accordionist began to play again, but this time it was a slow series of trills, long drawn-out notes in a wailing key. He threw back his shaggy head, showing his teeth in a song. It was half song, actually, and half howl, a baritone melody so wrenching that I found my heart constricting with loss, with all the losses of my life. 'What is he singing?' I asked Stoichev, to cover my emotion.
"'It is an old song, very old - I think at least three or four hundred years. It tells the story of a beautiful Bulgarian maiden who is chased by the Turkish invaders. They want her for the harem of the local pasha, and she refuses. She runs up a high mountain near her village and they gallop after her on their horses. At the top of the mountain is a cliff. There she cries out that she would rather die than become the mistress of an infidel, and she throws herself off the cliff. Later a spring rises up at the foot of the mountain, and it is the purest, sweetest water in that valley.'
"Helen nodded. 'We have songs with a similar theme in Romania.'
"'They exist wherever the