“ We have gone a good part of the way. Lord, how a man forgets the road when he’s talking, and when one wakes up who knows where one has got to. It’s a good thing the Holy God has given one companionship! Hi! daughters of a dragon, get on! Here is the Grumazeshti Forest, the anxiety of merchants and the terror of the boyars. Hei, Mistress Malca, if this forest had a mouth to tell what it has seen, our ears could not hear more terrible adventures: I know we should hear some things!”
“But what has happened here, Mosh Nichifor?” ”

“ Like the generality of mankind, Father Trandafir had never given much thought to what he was doing. He was a priest, and he was content with his lot. He liked to sing, to read the Gospel, to instruct the faithful, to comfort, and to give spiritual assistance to the erring. His thoughts did not go much beyond that. Had he been asked at any time whether he realized the sanctity, the inner meaning of his calling, maybe he would have laughed to himself at all those things which a man only grasps in moments of intense suffering. ”

“ There was not a man in the village upon whom he had not poured the whole weight of his learning: he had nothing more to say.
“This will not do,” said the priest once more. “Advice does not pay. I must start something more severe.”
He began to chaff.
Wherever he found a man, Father Trandafir began to make him ridiculous, to make fun of him in every kind of way. If he passed a house that had not been re-roofed yesterday, he would say to the owner: “Oh, you are a clever man, you are! You have windows in the roof. You do love the light and the blessed sun!” ”

“ As Sandu said this Mistress Veta came into the ante-room, took a plateful of cakes out of a cupboard and went quickly away again.
During the noise she made the old lady looked intently towards the window.
“She takes them upstairs, but she did not invite me,” and her eyes filled with tears. “That is how she esteems me,” said the old lady, steeped in bitterness. “It’s a sad world. I have reached an old age when my own daughter is ashamed of me. She sends me out of the house as if I were a nobody. May God not punish her, for she has children. ”

“ But that which he understood better than anything, much better even than the speaker, was the striking illustration of the theory: the case of reversion to type he knew in flesh and blood, it was the portrait of Gheorghe. This portrait, which had just been drawn in broad outline only, he could fill in perfectly in his own mind, down to the most minute details.
The coach had gone. Leiba followed it with his eyes until, turning to the left, it was lost to sight round the hill. The sun was setting behind the ridge to the west, and the twilight began to weave soft shapes in the Podeni valley. ”

“ She is a proud lady, there is no denying it! If I knew you would give me five ducats, or even six—but there, it’s only an idea——”
“Speak, Vasile, good man, I will give you—— What eyes! Woe is me!”
“Then I understand, master,” says Vasile, “that you give me seven ducats, but you’ll have to give seven times seven if you get her here at your hand—don’t be afraid, master, it is not much—only seven times seven to have her here at your hand! I’ll bring Cozma Racoare to you! As sure as you put the ducats into the palm of my hand, so sure will he put the Sultana into your arms, that’s that.” ”

“ He could not remain without a village: a priest without a village—a cart without a wheel, a yoke without oxen, a hat on the top of a wig. He began to think what he must do; he must take things as they were, and stay gladly in Saraceni. It was only a village in name, but no one could say he was a priest without a village. But really a more suitable priest for a more suitable village you could not have found. The poverty of the priest corresponded to the poverty in the homes of his parishioners. ”

“ What have I done to these men? Holy Virgin save me from this danger, and I swear to build a church to pray for the rest of my days, I will enshrine with silver the miracle-working Icon from the Neamtzu Monastery. But gracious Prince, do not listen to these common people, to these churls. Command that the guns decimate them. Let them all die! I am a great boyar, they are only churls!”
“Churls, but many of them,” replied Lapushneanu coldly: “would it not be a sin to murder many men for the sake of one? ”

“ Meanwhile the other two boyars arrived and stood by the door listening.
“Ah, you wanted to turn me into a monk,” cried Lapushneanu in a raucous and terrible voice. “You thought to get rid of me? But you can dismiss that idea! God or the devil will make me well again, and——”
“Unhappy man, do not blaspheme,” said the Metropolitan, cutting him short. “Do not forget you are in the hour of death! Reflect, sinful man, that you are a monk, you are no longer Ruler! Reflect that such ravings and yells are frightening this innocent woman, and this child in whom rests the hope of Moldavia.” ”

“ And whether he had a full load or was empty, old Nichifor always walked up the hills and usually pulled together with the mares. Down the hills he walked to avoid laming the mares.
The passengers, willing or unwilling, had to do the same, for they had enough of old Nichifor’s tongue, who once rounded on one of them like this: “Can’t you get out and walk; the horse is not like a blockhead that talks.” If you only knew how to appreciate everything that fell from old Nichifor’s mouth, he was very witty. If he met a rider on the road, he would ask: “Left the Prince far behind, warrior?” ”

“ Have left me to you! Oh, kill me and let me escape from suffering. Oh, stab me, you are still young, have pity, free me from the agony that rends me, stab me!” he said, and turned towards Stroici.
“I will not desecrate my noble dagger with the blood of such a worthless tyrant as you.”
The pains increased. The poisoned man writhed in convulsions.
“Oh,” he cried, “my very soul burns me! Oh, give me water—give me something to drink.”
“Look,” said Spancioc, taking the silver cup from the table, “the dregs of the poison are left. Drink and quench your thirst!” ”

“ It was an old house, its veranda was both high and broad and had big whitewashed pillars. The pointed roof was tiled and green with moss. In front of the veranda, and facing south, stood two beautiful round lime-trees throwing out their shade.
One day in the month of August, the owners, Vladimir Savicky and Ana, his wife, were sitting in the veranda. Both were old, weather-beaten by the storms of many journeys and the misfortunes of life. ”

“ Then Stroici seized him and held him tight while Spancioc, drawing a knife from its sheath, unclenched his teeth with its point and poured down his throat [83] the poison which had remained at the bottom of the cup.
Lapushneanu, roaring like a bull which sees the hand and axe which is about to strike him, tried to turn his face towards the wall.
“What, you do not want to see us?” said the boyars. “No, but it is meet that you should see in us your punishment; learn to die, you who have only known how to kill.” ”

“ Thus thought Father Trandafir; but in Saraceni there was neither almsgiving nor hospitality.
“There is one thing,” said the Father to himself a little later on, “in a poor village there is no corn for the priest to gather. As long as the people of Saraceni are lazy, so long shall I be hungry!” And he began to think how he was going to make his parishioners industrious. The industrious man eats the stones, makes soup out of the stagnant water, and reaps corn where the hemlock used to grow. “Then”—concluded the priest—“when the cow has fodder she is no longer dry!” ”

“ Poor Malca saw it was all one now. She began to walk about and collect sticks.
“Lord! you look pretty, young lady. It seems as though you are one of us. Didn’t your father once keep an inn in the village somewhere?”
“For a long time he kept the inn at Bodesti.”
“And I was wondering how you came to speak Moldavian so well and why you looked like one of our women. I cannot believe you were really afraid of the wolf. Well, well, what do you think of this clearing? Would you like to die without knowing the beauty of the world? Do you hear the nightingales, how charming they are? ”

“ Red was the wine, but Mistress Veta’s face was redder still. She might have had an apoplectic stroke.
“Ah! He said those words?”
Lena did not know how to calm her.
“My dear, really I did not know how much it [254] would upset you or I should never have told you. Why do you get so angry? Every one knows he is a liar and a mischief-maker without his equal in the empire, and who pays attention to all his tales, and all the world knows how you have brought up Ana. What tanner’s daughter can touch her? Your Ana—come, leave it.”
“I will not leave it,” cried Mistress Veta, somewhat calmer. ”

“ And when they woke it was broad daylight.
“See, Mistress Malca, here’s the blessed day! Get up and come and see what’s to be done. There, no one has eaten you, have they? Only you have had a great fright!”
Malca fell asleep again at these words. But old Nichifor, like a careful man, got up into the carriage, and began rummaging about all over the place, and under the forage bags, and what should there be but the axe and a measure and a gimlet beneath the seat. ”

“ The boyars retired sadly; Motzoc remained.
“Why do you stay?” asked Lapushneanu.
“Sire! Sire!” said Motzoc, falling on his knees. “Reward us not after our iniquities! Remember this is your native land, remember the scriptural admonition to forgive your enemies! Have pity on the poor land. Sire! dismiss these pagan armies; come with only a few Moldavians with you, and we will guarantee that not a hair of your Highness’s head shall be touched; and if you need armies we will arm our women and our children, we will raise the country, we will call up our retainers and our neighbours. ”

“ A condition far worse than execution was that of the Jew without protection in the hands of the Gentile—skulls too fragile for such fierce hands as those of the madman just now. [22]
Leiba’s lips, parched with fever, trembled as they mechanically followed his thoughts. A violent shivering fit seized him; he entered the porch of the inn with tottering steps.
“There is no doubt,” thought Sura, “Leiba is not at all well, he is really ill; Leiba has got ‘ideas’ into his head. Is not that easy to understand after all he has been doing these last days, and especially after what he has done to-day?” ”

“ Sandu felt a cold shiver go through him. For a second he stood still. Three years as apprentice and four years as workman he had worked for one master only, and he would have remained there all his life if he had not been taken to be a soldier, and if the master had not died he would have gone back to him the day he left the army. He felt quite nervous, and if the apprentice had not opened the gate he would not have gone in.
“They are eating,” said the apprentice, seeing the big yard was empty, and he crossed to the bottom of it where a small house stood built against the old workshop. ”

“ But, Master Shtrul, I do not think you are going to annoy me with cows too. And, then, Mistress Malca, where it is very steep, uphill or down, will always get out and walk a little way. It is so beautiful out in the country then. But there, we mustn’t waste our time talking. Come, jump in, Mistress Malca, that I may take you home to your husband; I know how sad it is for these young wives when they have not got their husbands with them; they long for home as the horse longs for his nose-bag.”
“I am ready to come, Mosh Nichifor.” ”

“ And my judge grew bigger, like a Titan, like a wall between me and Irinel. In my ears there rang what I am convinced was the sentence he had secretly passed on me: “What a depraved youth! The old are passing away, and with them disappear the old moral ideas!”
I was ready to sink under my chair. My uncle said to me:
“Iorgu, you have not had any coffee. It seems to me you are not well, are you?”
What irony! Were his words more gentle than before? Useless thought! I understood him. God defend you from a good man who disapproves of you. ”

“ Look, Mistress Malca, what people the devil has put in this world! He is only out to steal. If there had been a barrel of wine or brandy about, do you think he would have left the carriage stuck in the middle of the road all that time? But I see, anything there is to do must be done by old Nichifor. ”

“ Look, my dear young lady, how necessity teaches a man what to do. With old Nichifor of Tzutzuen no one comes to grief on the road. But from now on sit tight in the bottom of the carriage, and hold fast to the back of your seat, for I must take these mares in hand and make them gallop. Yes, I warrant you, my old woman won’t have an easy time when I get home. I’ll play the devil with her and teach her how to treat her husband another time, for ‘a woman who has not been beaten is like a broken mill.’ Hold tight, Mistress Malca! ”