Scene 1. Vasya’s house.

Narrator:

(Walks into spotlight in front of stage, the rest of the stage being darkened)

Welcome, friends, one and all, to our little musical play! We’ve labored long and hard to present you an evening’s entertainment, and we hope you enjoy your time with us. We charge no admission to hear us sing, but remember — you must pay to leave early!

Our story is called “Vasya Whitefeet,” and it takes place in old Russia about 150 years ago. At that time there lived a Romany mother and her son on a fine estate. Vasya was the son’s name — Vasya Whitefeet. Vasya was called “Whitefeet” because he was very fair complexioned, not like most Romanies who are darker skinned. When Vasya was young his father died, and Vasya’s mother cared for him most tenderly. They were richly blessed, as Vasya's father had been a successful horse trader and had acquired great wealth selling steeds to the Tsar’s army. Thus, Vasya and his mother never wanted for anything. Our story begins on a special day — Vasya’s twentieth birthday when he becomes a man. (Stage lightens. Mother and servants are on the porch setting a table with fine dishes and many types of food and wine.)

Mother:

(Singing) Vasya, Vasya, pisliskurja,
Come and see what I've prepared.
Berries, wine, and cabbage soup, and
Hedgehog stewed with spices fair.

(Vasya enters)

Vasya, Vasya, pisliskurja,
Dearest sedre, raise your palm
And receive your sacred dagger,
For today you are a rom.

(Mother gives Vasya an ornamental dagger)

Twenty years you now have witnessed,
Twenty years my heart's delight.
May God grant you many years more
As you come into your right.

(Spoken) Dear Vasya, today you are a man. Your father would be most proud of you, as am I. Now, on your twentieth birthday, you become the head of this house. May you govern us wisely, and may God grant you a dutiful wife and many children.

Vasya:

(Bows) Dearest Mother, how kind you are. I thank you for this feast and for your abiding care. You have given me everything a son could want. But before I take my place as rightful head of this house, I ask for one thing more. I want to see how other Romanies live. I want to know my people and travel with them to see the world beyond our gates.

Mother:

How wise you are, my son. It is good to know one’s own people and judge them fairly. Here we have all we need and more, but you have been sheltered from the outside world. You may go with my blessing and seek your heart’s desire. Go and find a Romany wife and find how to make a living to provide for your family. But yet one thing troubles me, my son.

Vasya:

What is that, Mother?

Mother:

You are fair-skinned, son, much more so than most other Roma. I fear the roaming clans will not receive you and will see you as a gadjo.

Vasya:

Do not fear, dear Mother. I have a plan. I will rub my face with dirt and mud to make myself look darker. I’ll dress in rags and play the fool and test the friends that I shall meet on the way. If they mock me and cast me out, I’ll know soon enough that my place is elsewhere and that I should seek a wife from another clan. But if they receive me for what I appear to be and treat me well, then they will prove to me that they are worthy of my affection, and I will choose a bride from among them to be your daughter.

Mother:

Go then, my son. Do as you propose. Go and learn how to make a living, then come again to us. Dza Devlesa!

Vasya:

Ach Devlesa, Mother!

Narrator:

And so this is what Vasya did. He had his servants bring him the most tattered clothes they could find. He rubbed his face and hands with dark earth so that his own mother wouldn’t recognize him. And he set off to see how other Romanies lived. Vasya walked for several days, growing even darker as he went from the dust on the roads, till at twilight one day he came upon a Romany camp where the people had gathered round the campfire singing songs.

---

Scene 2. (Gypsy camp) The camp are sitting round a campfire singing.

Chorus:

(Singing) Caravan wheels turning, turning,
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei,
Styenka’s heart is yearning, yearing,
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei.

One fine morning he heard singing,
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei,
Kulya’s song came sweetly ringing,
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei.

Lovely Kulya, berry gath’ring,
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei,
Styenka’s heart was bold and daring,
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei.

“Come with me and be my wife,”
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei,
“For with you I’d share my life,”
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei.

“Marry, yes, someday I shall,”
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei,
“But whether you, I cannot tell,”
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei.

“I don’t know you,” thus said she,
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei,
“What kind of husband you shall be,”
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei.

Styenka’s camp rode far away,
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei,
Heavy did his poor heart lay,
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei.

Never shall there be another,
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei,
Who like her his heart would smother,
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei.

Caravan wheels turning, turning,
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei,
Styenka’s heart is yearning, yearning.
Dam taradam, taradam ta rei.

(Vasya enters during last stanza)

Bota:

(Spoken as Vasya approaches) Ho, young fellow! And who might you be?

Vasya:

(In a sing-song voice) Vasya. My name is Vasya. (The others giggle)

Pesha:

Is he mad?

Mala:

No, I think he's just a simpleton.

Bota:

Vasya — a common enough Rom name. Come, lad ... come by the fire so we can get a look at you. (Vasya stands by the fire; Bota holds him by the shoulder and looks at him closely) No fear, my friends. This man is a Calo Rom! Welcome!

All:

(Variously) Welcome! Welcome friend! Come, join us.

Bota:

Come sit with us and warm your skin. Are you hungry, lad? (Vasya shakes his head vigorously) I thought so. Rizka, bring him food! (Rizka brings him a plate, and he begins eating ravenously with his hands)

Pesha:

Why, he’s famished!

Bota:

Well, lad, it’s clear you’re very hungry. I’m sure we can understand why you hadn’t time to wash your hands before eating. So what clan are you?

Vasya:

Vasya. My name is Vasya.

Pesha:

I don't think he understands.

Mala:

He's clearly a fool.

Bota:

(Slaps Vasya on the back) No matter. Any Rom is welcome here. We've no quarrel with any clan. But where did you come from?

Vasya:

(Points stage right) Up the road.

Bota:

Where are you going?

Vasya:

(Points stage left) Down the road.

Bota:

Bah! No need for that. Why don’t you stay with us? Have you any skills?

Vasya:

(Between mouthfuls of food) Horses. I groom horses.

Bota:

A suitable gift for a Rom! Stay with us, then, and tend our horses. Is it agreed? (Vasya shakes his head yes) Excellent! Now, (rubbing his chin) where shall you stay? Milosh, you have room in your wagon?

Vasya:

No. No, thank you. But that tree looks inviting.

Bota:

All night under a tree? But you need shelter.

Vasya:

(Holds up the corner of his coat; music begins) My tent. (Points to his boots) My pillow. I'll be fine.

Bota:

(Shrugs) As you wish. But should you change your mind, we’ll find you a better place. Come now, friends, let us welcome our new son! (They all gather round Vasya to welcome him. Stage darkens)

Narrator:

And so Vasya, pretending to be a fool, found a welcome home and stayed with the camp for many weeks. They all received him heartily, though they laughed at him day in and day out for his foolish ways. Vasya never took offense at their taunting but smiled with them when they teased. He proved himself a worthy stranger and kept the horses well groomed, having learned to care for them from his father while still a youngster. Many happy days passed in the camp’s company, and everyone loved Vasya, despite his appearing clumsy and stupid. Every night they sat together by the campfire singing songs, telling tales, and dancing.

(Stage lightens. Round the campfire Bota plays the violin. Vasya sits next to him and watches intently. When Bota is finished Vasya speaks)

Vasya:

(Pointing to the violin) Please, may I try?

Bota:

What, the fiddle? (Vasya shakes his head yes) Can you play?

Vasya:

How should I know if I can play unless I give it a go?

Others:

(All laugh, then variously say) Vasya play the fiddle? Oh, hold your ears! Someone mind the horses as they’ll all be frightened! Mind your children’s slumber!

(Vasya takes the violin. Several people cover their ears, and they all giggle in anticipation of a horrible screeching. As Vasya begins to play a beautiful meoldy they settle down, uncover their ears, and listen rapturously. At the conclusion, Bota speaks)

Bota:

Well, I’ll be hanged! The young fool is a genius!

Others:

(Variously) That was beautiful! Lovely! Play for us again! Sit down, everyone, be quiet! Listen!

(Vasya plays again, the music fading as the stage is darkened)

Narrator:

And thus in yet another way Vasya won the people’s hearts. Though a fool, he could play the fiddle wondrously, and no sun set but the whole camp gathered to hear him play. Even the children would stay up late to hear the lovely strains that came from his fiddle. Then suddenly one day, Vasya vanished. The camp awoke one morning expecting to find him asleep beneath his tree, but he, his overcoat, and his boots were nowhere to be found. What had happened was this: After Vasya had played for the group the night before, the talk turned to a big wedding that was being planned. The ataman’s daughter Rosa, who was said to be the fairest of all the clan, had been promised to an aging widower as his bride. But rumor had it that Rosa was not fond of her future groom. Nevertheless, a Romany girl cannot go against her father’s wishes, and so the wedding had been planned. On hearing the news, Vasya secretly crept away during the night and returned home.

---

Scene 3. (Vasya’s home) Vasya approaches his mother who is on the porch.

Vasya:

(Singing) Mother, I am now come home,
But quickly, please, my best suit find.
Bring me water and a comb.
Hurry, please, if you don't mind.

Mother:

(Motions to the servants to do as he says then speaks) Welcome home, son! But what’s the rush?

Vasya:

(Singing) I’ve wandered far and wide
To see how others live.
Perchance I've found a bride,
If her heart to me she’ll give.

A worthy camp of Gypsies
Betook me as a fool,
And though I’d oft act tipsy
And behaves odd as a rule,
They took me in and fed me,
And never once were cruel.

I heard last night that Rosa fair
Will be wed to Tobar Dunka.
But he’s old and he’s fat and he hasn’t any hair,
And poor Rosa is dismayed.

If she’s as fair as all men say
Then my bride I hope she’ll be.
So I have a plan for another way —
And I’m sure that you'll agree.

(The servants return with a basin of water and fine clothes. Vasya washes and changes attire as they speak.)

Mother:

(Speaking) So this Rosa’s father has promised her to another man?

Vasya:

Yes, but rumor has it that she does not like him.

Mother:

But, son, the word of a Rom father must not be disobeyed. This could mean trouble if you interfere.

Vasya:

Don’t worry, Mother. She is promised to another man, but perhaps I can save her the trouble. I’ll just have a look and see if she’s as pretty as they say.

Mother:

Do be careful, my son. Have a look, but it may be prudent to leave well enough alone.

Vasya:

My plan will work. I’ll show you how clever a son you’ve raised. Do not worry. And if I find her ugly or cruel, she’ll be no wife for me.

Mother:

Then go, son, and do as you devise. But be sure you come back to me with all your parts!

(They both laugh as stage darkens)

Narrator:

So next day Vasya returned to the Romany camp, but clean and dressed as he is, no one recognizes him. Sporting his finest clothes and carrying a fiddle under his arm, he is greeted warmly by the camp, though he is a stranger to them.

---

Scene 4. (Gypsy camp) The camp and other guests are sitting round the fire in fine attire.

Bota:

(Stands when he sees Vasya approaching) Welcome, stranger! Have you too come for the wedding celebration?

Vasya:

That I have. Word has spread near and far of the lovely maiden who is to marry Tobar Dunka.

Bota:

(Extending his hand) I am Bota.

Vasya:

(Shakes Bota’s hand) My name is Vasya.

Bota:

Vasya, eh? We had a young fellow here named Vasya. But he wandered away yesterday and we’ve not seen him since. He was a simple fellow who I fear doesn’t know up from down. Perhaps he’ll return again soon and you can meet him. (Noticing the fiddle) So you play the fiddle?

Vasya:

Indeed I do, sir.

Bota:

Then play for us, will you? Our own Vasya used to play, as do I, but since he left my heart hasn’t been as merry as these festivities deserve. Go on, give us a tune.

(Vasya takes out his violin and plays. Midway through, Rosa begins softly crying.)

Mala:

This isn’t a festive tune.

Pesha:

No, but it’s lovely. Look at Rosa. She’s crying.

Mala:

If she’s not careful, he’ll steal away her heart.

(When Vasya finishes playing, carious members of the camp shake his hand and tell him “Beautiful” and “Lovely.” They then busy themselves with games, visiting, and making preparations for the wedding. They do not notice when Vasya secretly speaks with Rosa.)

Vasya:

So you are the lovely Rosa?

Rosa:

I am Rosa.

Vasya:

(Cautiously looks round) Rosa, I know that you do not love Tobar Dunka. He is old and fat and bald. But worse than that, he did not treat his dead wife well, God rest her. Do you really want to go into a loveless marriage?

Rosa:

We each must accept our fate. What choice do I have?

Vasya:

(Again cautiously looks round) Come away with me. Be my bride, Rosa, and I will show you all the joys of true love.

Rosa:

(Looks about to see if anyone heard) But my father —

Vasya:

Sometimes a promise must be broken for love’s sake. Could your father be truly happy knowing that you were badly treated? Come away with me.

Rosa:

(Hesitantly) I don’t dare.... I must think.

(Walks to edge of stage with Vasya following. She muses, singing, to the audience)

Should I go, or must I stay?
Can there be no other way?
I am pledged to another man,
It is not right to shame my clan.

Still, this Vasya’s won my heart.
From my fate I’d gladly part,
Be his bride, know love most true —
Do I have strength to see this through?

Father has my future planned,
But in this I’ve had no hand.
Cruel fate to be so abused!
But of love’s spell I stand accused.

“Faithless daughter!” they will say.
But my heart leads me away.
Tobar wants me for his own.
Oh, but his heart is made of stone.

Clearly I must take a stand —
Two men asking for my hand:
One decreeing from above;
One who desires me for true love.

(Looks round and to see that no one is watching, then speaks to Vasya) Yes! Yes, I’ll go with you. But we must make haste.

Vasya:

Come, then. Quietly let’s steal away. Make no noise. (They exit discreetly stage left. Music plays, and soon Rosa’s father — the ataman — notices her absence.)

Ataman:

Hey! Where is Rosa? (Looks about) And the fiddler! What treachery is this?

All, in Chorus:

(Sung as they search the camp)
Where is Rosa, lovely Rosa,
Where, on this her wedding day?
Where is Rosa, promised Rosa?
Pretty girls have feet of clay!

Where’s the fiddler, handsome fiddler,
Come his music for to play?
Cunning fiddler, crafty fiddler,
He has swept her clean away!

Where’s the fiddler? Off with Rosa!
Where they’ve gone we cannot say.
Scheming fiddler, faithless Rosa,
For this crime you both shall pay!

Ataman:

Quick, men! They cannot have gone far. After them, and bring them back post haste! (Several men run off stage left)

Mala:

Oh, poor Rosa!

Ataman:

Poor Rosa, indeed! A daughter who will not honor her father’s pledge will face my wrath. And as for that fiddler, we’ll string him up by the neck and see how well he can play whilst dangling from a tree! (The men return)

Luka:

(Out of breath) We’re sorry, ataman. We tried to follow, but his steed outpaced the best of us.

Shandor:

(Also out of breath) A finer horse I’ve never seen. We’ll never be able to catch them.

Ataman:

Curses! So be it, then. Rosa has brought shame on my head. I’ll never live this down! (But if only I can keep part of the dowery.) (Stage darkens)

Narrator:

Vasya’s mount was the finest in the land, and no one would ever best him in a race to freedom for Rosa. They rode all that day and came at last to Vasya’s home where his mother stood anxiously waiting.

---

Scene 5. (Vasya’s house) Vasya’s mother is standing on the porch as they approach.

Mother:

Vasya!

Vasya:

Sar san, miri dye?

Mother:

I am well, my son, and much relieved to see that you’ve returned safely.

Vasya:

Mother, this is your new daughter, Rosa. My plan has worked well thus far, and she has agreed to be my wife.

Mother:

(Embraces Rosa) Welcome, Rosa. (Mother does not look very pleased)

Vasya:

What troubles you, Mother? Are you not happy to see I’ve found a wife, and indeed the fairest in all the land?

Mother:

Oh, my son, I am happy for you. But it is only that ... can we not have a proper Roma wedding?

Vasya:

(Singing) A wedding there shall be
With feasting, song, and dancing.
And thus I shall decree
My scheme is far advancing.

Fair Rosa shall become my bride,
Our love freely confessing.
Your wish for us won’t be denied,
So grant us both your blessing.

And fear not retribution,
The thing you’re so much dreading.
I have a sure solution,
So onward with the wedding!

The plan I’ve laid will see success
Before tomorrow’s sunset.
Your worries I shall all address —
You’ll see, for I’m not done yet.

(Speaking) Tell the servants to make ready for a great wedding feast. But first I must go and invite my friends. You’ll see how things will turn out. Bring me my tattered clothes and keep Rosa company until I return. (Stage darkens)

Narrator:

Donning his tattered rags and once again darkening his face with mud, Vasya kissed his mother and Rosa and bade them farewell, promising to return again on the morrow. The plan he’d devised had but one part remaining — to win the approval of Rosa’s father and his beloved camp. When he arrives at the camp, he finds the community abuzz with the news of Rosa’s flight with the fair-skinned fiddler.

---

Scene 6. (Gypsy Camp) There is general hubbub about the strange events of the preceding day.

Bota:

(Seeing Vasya) Ho, Vasya! You’ve found your way back! (Hugs Vasya) Where the devil have you been?

Vasya:

I went to follow my heart.

Pesha:

Good old Vasya! As foolish as ever! (Hugs Vasya)

Bota:

You missed the excitement. Yesterday we were to have a grand wedding, but a strange man came into the camp and stole away our Rosa. The ataman is fit to be tied, and the rest of us are just trying to figure it all out. Did you meet anyone on your way? Have you any idea who the stranger was?

Vasya:

Yes I do. It was I. (Everyone laughs throughout following dialogue)

Bota:

Still full of pranks, you are!

Malla:

As though Vasya could turn himself white overnight!

Pesha:

Leave it to poor Vasya to lift our spirits!

Vasya:

Laugh all you like, but when you're done you should ready yourselves to come to my wedding. It will be at a wealthy friend’s house. There will be plenty to eat and drink, and you’ll all have a great time.

Luka:

(Mockingly) A wedding for Vasya? It'll be worth it to see who would marry him! Ha!

Milosh:

As much as he likes horses, perhaps she looks like one!

Luka:

A fine main, a long face, and shaggy tail! Ha ha!

Bota:

Well, friends, what have we got to lose? We’re not happy sitting around here, and maybe this will quell the ataman’s wrath. If Vasya’s lying, then we’ll tan his hide; if not, then at least we’ll enjoy a good feed. Come on, all, let’s get ready for “Vasya’s wedding!” (They busy themselves in preparation and still giggle as stage darkens)

Narrator:

The whole company follow Vasya to his house next day with Vasya leading the way. Just before they reach the house, Vasya secretively rushes on ahead and greets his mother and Rosa. He bathes and once more puts on his finest clothes. A large feast is set in his yard, and he and the servants await the arrival of his friends so that the final stage of his masterful plan can be accomplished.

---

Scene 7. (Vasya’s house) Vasya, Rosa, and Mother wait on the porch while the servants stand beside the tables. The camp approaches en masse with much chatter. Vasya has the brim of his hat tilted so that his face is partially hidden from the guests.

Vasya:

Welcome, all! Are you the friends Vasya invited to the wedding?

Ataman:

That we are. He led us here, but it seems he’s now disappeared.

Vasya:

I shouldn’t worry. Knowing Vasya, I’m sure he’ll make his appearance soon enough. Come to the feast now. We’ve been expecting you.

(They enter the gate and seat themselves for the feast. The servants groom them, combing their hair and trimming the men’s beards while all enjoy the banquet. Music plays as they enjoy themselves.)

(Vasya stands and raises his glass for a toast) Good friends, let us raise our glasses to the bride and groom: Rosa and Vasya Whitefeet! (The guests gasp in shock and repeat the names intermittantly in a questioning manner)

Ataman:

A grand home, a fine feast, and wonderful Rom hospitality — we see that the groom must surely be a worthy and noble man. Far nobler indeed than Tobar Dunka. I judged in haste when I raged against him and now give my blessing for her to be his bride. But where is this Vasya Whitefeet? I don’t see him anywhere.

(Vasya takes up his violin and plays. As he plays, Rosa enters and removes his hat. The guests slowly realize that he is Vasya Whitefeet. Vasya concludes playing.)

Ataman:

So you —?

Vasya:

Yes, dear friends. I am Vasya Whitefeet. But you need have no fear for you never did me any harm. I came to you a fool, yet you fed me and cared for me, taking me in as one of your own. And as for the joking, I forgive you, for laughter makes you forget your cares and woes.

(Vasya and Rosa embrace, and all raise their glasses to the pair and sing a joyful song)

All:

Vasya Whitefeet, T’aves baxtalo!
Raise your glasses, one and all.
May God grant you many children,
Pretty girls, boys dark and tall.

Vasya, Rosa, Mother Whitefeet,
To you three our hearts belong.
We give thanks for all your kindness,
And to you we raise this song.

When the road calls, sweetly beckoning,
When between us miles have passed,
Still we’ll sing a song of mem’ry
Of your kindness unsurpassed.

Vasya Whitefeet, now and after
May you rule your household well.
And when recalled, with joyful laughter
Sorrow and lament dispell.

Vasya, you have taught us wisely
Not to judge by looks alone.
May your wisdom further guide you,
Blessing Rosa, hearth, and home!

End of Opera