this, and that he swore an oath that as long as he lived he would
never again have dealings with the clergy, for, unfortunately, old
Nichifor was pious and was much afraid of falling under the ban of
the priests. He quickly went to the little monastery at Vovidenia
to Chiviac, the anchorite of St. Agura, who dyed his hair and beard
with black cherries, and on dry Friday he very devoutly baked an egg
at a candle that he might be absolved from his sins. And after this
he decided that from henceforth he would have more to do with the
commercial side.
"The merchant," said old Nichifor, "lives by his business and for
himself."
When he was asked why, old Nichifor answered jokingly:
"Because he has not got God for his master."
Old Nichifor was a wag among wags, there was no doubt of it, but
owing to all he had to put up with he became a bit disagreeable.
I don't know what was the matter with her, but for some time past, his
old wife had begun to grumble; now this hurt her; now that hurt her;
now she had the ear-ache; now some one had cast a spell over her;
now she was in tears. She went from one old witch to the other to
get spells and ointments. As for old Nichifor, this did not suit him
and he was not at all at his ease; if he stayed two or three days at
home there was such bickering and quarrelling and ill will that his
poor old wife rejoiced to see him leave the house.
It's plain old Nichifor was made for the road, and that when he was
off it he was a different man; let him be able to crack his whip and
he was ready to chaff all the travellers he met and tell anecdotes
about all the chief places he passed through.
Early one day--it was the Wednesday before Whit-Sunday--old Nichifor
had taken a wheel off the carriage, and was greasing it when suddenly
Master Shtrul of Neamtzu town came up behind him; he was a grocer;
a dealer in ointments; he took in washing; he traded in cosmetics,
hair-dyes, toilet accessories, blue stone, rouge or some good pomade
for the face, palm branches, smelling salts and other poisons.
At that time there was no apothecary in Neamtzu town and Master Shtrul
to please the monks and nuns brought them all they wanted. Of course
he did other business too. To conclude, I hardly know how to tell
you, he was more important than the confessor, for without him the
monasteries could not have existed.
"Good morning, Mosh Nichifor!"
"Good luck to you, Master Shtrul. What business brings you to us?"
"My daughter-in-law wants to go to Peatra. How much will you charge
to take her there?"
"Probably she will have a great many packages like you do, sir,"
said old Nichifor, scratching his head. "That doesn't matter; she
can have them. My carriage is large; it can hold a good deal. But
without bargaining, Master Shtrul, you give me sixteen shillings and
a gold irmal and I'll take her there quite easily; for you'll see,
now I've attended to it and put some of this excellent grease into it,
the carriage will run like a spinning-wheel."
"You must be satisfied with nine shillings, Mosh Nichifor, and my
son will give you a tip when you get to Peatra."
"All right, then; may God be with us, Master Shtrul. I am glad the
fair is in full swing just now; perhaps I shall get a customer for
the return journey. Now I would like to know when we have to start?"
"Now, at once, Mosh Nichifor, if you are ready."
"I am ready, Master Shtrul; I have only to water the mares. Go and
get your daughter-in-law ready."
Old Nichifor was energetic and quick at his work and he rapidly threw
some fodder into the carriage, spread out a couple of leather cushions,
put to the mares, flung his sheepskin cloak round his shoulders,
took his whip in his hand and was up and away. Master Shtrul had
scarcely reached home when old Nichifor drew up his carriage at the
door. Malca--that was the name of Master Shtrul's daughter-in-law--came
out to take a look at the driver.
This is Malca's story: it appeared that Peatra was her native place;
she was very red in the face, because she had been crying at parting
with her parents-in-law. It was the first time she had been in Neamtzu;
it was her wedding visit as they say with us. It was not much more
than two weeks since she had married Itzic, Master Shtrul's son, or,
it would be better to say, in all good fellowship, that Itzic had
married Malca. He had quitted his parents' house according to the
custom, and in two weeks' time Itzic had brought Malca to Neamtzu and
placed her in his parents' hands and had returned quickly to Peatra
to look after his business.
"You have kept your promise, Mosh Nichifor?"
"Certainly, Master Shtrul; my word is my word. I don't trouble myself
much. As for the journey, it's as well to set out early and to halt
in good time in the evening."
"Will you be able to reach Peatra by the evening, Mosh Nichifor."
"Eh! Do you know what you're talking about, Master Shtrul? I expect,
so help me God, to get your daughter-in-law to Peatra this afternoon."
"You are very experienced, Mosh Nichifor; you know better than I
do. All I beg of you is that you will be very careful to let no harm
befall my daughter-in-law."
"I did not start driving the day before yesterday, Master Shtrul. I
have already driven dames and nuns and noble ladies and other honest
girls, and, praise be to God, none have ever complained of me. Only
with the nun Evlampia, begging sister from Varatic, did I have a little
dispute. Wherever she went it was her custom to tie a cow to the back
of the carriage, for economy's sake, that she might have milk on the
journey; this caused me great annoyance. The cow, just like a cow,
pulled the forage out of my carriage, once it broke the rack, going
uphill it pulled back, and once it nearly strangled my mares. And I,
unhappy man that I am, was bold enough to say, 'Little nun, isn't it
being a penny wise and a pound foolish?' Then she looked sadly at me,
and in a gentle voice said to me, 'Do not speak so, Mosh Nichifor,
do not speak thus of the poor little cow, for she, poor thing, is not
guilty of anything. The anchorite fathers of St. Agura have ordained
that I should drink milk from a cow only, so that I may not get old
quickly; so what is to be done? I must listen to them, for these holy
men know a great deal better than do we poor sinners.'
"When I heard this, I said to myself, that perhaps the begging
Sister had some reason on her side, and I left her to her fate,
for I saw that she was funny and at all events was determined to
drink only from one well. 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 she began at once to pick up the feather mattress, the soft
pillows, a bundle containing food, and other commodities. Then Malca
took leave of her parents-in-law, and got on to the feather mattresses
in the bottom of the carriage. Old Nichifor jumped on to the box,
whipped up the mares, and left Master Shtrul and his wife behind in
tears. Old Nichifor drove at a great pace through the town, the mares
seemed to be almost flying. They passed the beach, the villages, and
the hill at Humuleshti in a second. From Ocea nearly to Grumazeshti
they went at the gallop.
But the other side of Grumazeshti old Nichifor took a pull from the
brandy flask which had come from Brashov, lit his pipe, and began to
let the mares go their own pace.
"Look, Mistress Malca, do you see that fine, large village? It is
called Grumazeshti. Were I to have as many bulls and you as many sons
as Cossacks, barbarians and other low people have dropped dead there
from time to time, it would be well for us!"
"God grant I may have sons, Mosh Nichifor."
"And may I have bulls, young lady--I have no hope of having sons; my
wife is an unfruitful vine; she has not been busy enough to give me
even one; may she die before long! When I am dead there'll be nothing
left but this battered old carriage and these good-for-nothing mares!"
"Don't distress yourself, Mosh Nichifor," said Malca, "maybe God has
willed it so; because it is written in our books, concerning some
people, that only in their old age did they beget sons."
"Don't bother me, Mistress Malca, with your books. I know what I
know; it's all in vain, we never can choose. I have heard it said in
our church that 'a tree that bears no fruit should be hewn down and
cast into the fire.' Can one have anything clearer than that? Really,
I wonder how I can have had patience to keep house with my old woman
so long. In this respect you are a thousand times better off. If he
does not give you a child you'll get some one else. If that does not
do--why then another; and in due time will come a little blessing from
the Almighty. It's not like that with us who see ourselves condemned
to live with one barren stock to the end of our life with no prospect
of children. After all the great and powerful Lord was not crucified
for only one person in this world. Isn't it so, young lady? If you
have anything more to say, say it!"
"It may be so, Mosh Nichifor."
"Dear young lady, it is as I tell you. Houp la! 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?"
"Oh, young lady, oh! God grant that what has been may never be
again! One used to have some trouble to pass through here without
being robbed, thrashed or murdered. Of course this happened more often
by night than by day. As for me, up to now, I have never spoken in
an unlucky hour, God preserve me! Wolves and other wild beasts have
come out in front of me at different times, but I didn't hurt them;
I left them alone, I pretended not to see anything, and they went
about their own business."
"Ah, Mosh Nichifor, don't talk about wolves any more, for they
terrify me."
I have told you how amusing old Nichifor was; sometimes he would say
something that made you hold your sides with laughing, at other times
he would bring your heart into your mouth with fear.
"There is a wolf coming towards us, Mistress Malca!"
"Woe is me! Mosh Nichifor, where can I hide?"
"Hide where you are, for I can tell you one thing, I am not afraid
of the whole pack."
Then poor Malca, terrified, clung round old Nichifor's neck, and
stuck to him like a leech, and as she sat there she said, trembling:
"Where is the wolf, Mosh Nichifor?"
"Where is it? It crossed the road just in front of us, and went into
the wood again. But if you had strangled me, young lady, and then
the mares had bolted, it would have been a fine look out."
He had scarcely ceased speaking when Malca said softly:
"Never tell me again that a wolf is coming, Mosh Nichifor, I shall
die from fright."
"It is not that I say so; there is one just coming; there you have
one!"
"Alas! What are you saying?"
And again she hid close to old Nichifor.
"What is young is young. You want to play, young lady, isn't that
it? It seems to me you're lucky, for I keep my self-control. I am not
very afraid of the wolf, but if some one else had been in my place----"
"No more wolves will come, Mosh Nichifor, will they?"
"Oho! you are too funny, young lady, you want them to come too
often. You mustn't expect to see a wolf at every tree. On St. Andrew's
Day many of them prowl together in the same place and the huntsmen
are on the watch. During the great hunt, do you think it's only a
few wolves that are put to shame by having to leave their skins as
hostages? Now we will let the mares get their wind. Look, this is
'Dragon Hill.' Once an enormous dragon alighted here, which spouted
flames out of his mouth, and when it whistled the forest roared,
the valleys groaned, the wild beasts trembled and beat their heads
together with fear, and no one dared pass by here."
"Alas! And where is the dragon, Mosh Nichifor?"
"How should I know, young lady? The forest is large, it knows where
it has hidden itself. Some say that after it had eaten a great many
people and peeled the bark off all the oaks in the wood it expired
at this spot. By others I have heard it said that it made a black
cow give it milk, and this enabled it to rise again into the skies
whence it had fallen. But how do I know whom to believe? People will
say anything! Luckily I understand witchcraft, and I am not at all
afraid of dragons. I can take serpents out of their nest as easily
as you can take a flea out of your poultry-house."
"Where did you learn these spells, Mosh Nichifor?"
"Eh? My dear young lady, that I may not tell. My old woman--she was
just on twenty-four when I fell in love with her--what hasn't she
done! How she has worried me to tell her, and I wouldn't tell her. And
that's why she'll die when she does die, but why hasn't she died long
before, for then I could have got a younger woman. For three days I can
live in peace with her, and then it's enough to kill one! I am sick
to death of the old hag. Every minute she worries and reproaches me
by her manner. When I think that when I return I have got to go back
to her, I feel wild--just inclined to run away--nothing more nor less."
"Stop, stop, Mosh Nichifor, you men are like that."
"Eh! Mistress Malca, here we are near the top of the wood. Won't
you walk a little while we go up the hill? I only say it because I
am afraid you will get stiff sitting in the carriage. Look at the
lovely flowers along the edge of the wood, they fill the air with
sweetness. It is really a pity for you to sit huddled up there."
"I am afraid of the wolf, Mosh Nichifor," said Malca, shaking.
"Let's have done with that wolf. Have you nothing else to talk about?"
"Stand still that I may get down."
"Wo! Step gently here on to the step of the carriage. Ah, now I
see for myself that you are sturdy; that's how I like people to be,
born not laid."
While Malca gathered some balm to take to Itzic, old Nichifor stood
still and tinkered a little at the carriage. Then he called quickly:
"Are you ready, young lady? Come, get in and let us get on with the
help of God; from here on it is mostly down hill."
After Malca has mounted she asked:
"Are we a little late, Mosh Nichifor?"
"If we meet with no obstacles I shall soon have you in Peatra."
And he whipped up the mares, saying:
"White for the leader, white for the wheeler
The pole lies bare on the one side.
Heigh! It's not far to Galatz. Heigh!"
He had scarcely gone twenty yards when--bang! An axle-pin broke.
"Well, here's a to-do!"
"Woe is me! Mosh Nichifor, we shall be benighted in the wood."
"Don't take it amiss, Mistress Malca. Come, it's only happened to me
once in my life. While you eat a little something, and the mares put
away a bit of fodder, I shall have replaced the axle-pin."
When old Nichifor came to look at the hook, the little axe had
disappeared!
"Well, what has been had to be," said old Nichifor, knitting his
eyebrows, and getting angry as he thought of it. "If God punishes the
old woman, may he punish her! See how she takes care of me; there is
no axe here."
When poor Malca heard this she began to sigh and to say:
"Mosh Nichifor, what are we to do?"
"Now, young lady, don't lose heart, for I have still a ray of hope."
He drew his pocket-knife out of its sheath, he went to the side of
the carriage, and began to cut away at a young oak of the previous
year. He cut it as best he could, then he began to rummage about
in a box in the carriage to find some rope; but how could he find
it if it had not been put in? After looking and looking in vain, he
cut the cord from the nose-bag, and a strap from the bridle of one
of the mares to tie the sapling where it was wanted, put the wheel
in position, slipped in the bit of wood which ran from the head of
the axle to the staff-side of the carriage, twisted round the chain
which connected the head of the axle with the shaft, and tied it to
the step; then he lit his pipe and said:
"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! Houp-la!"
And at once the mares began to gallop, the wheels to go round, and
the dust to whirl up into the sky. But in a few yards the sapling
began to get hot and brittle and--off came the wheel again!
"Ah! Everything is contrary! It's evident I crossed a priest early
this morning or the devil knows what."
"Mosh Nichifor, what are we to do?"
"We shall do what we shall do, young lady. But now stay quiet here,
and don't speak a word. It's lucky this didn't happen somewhere in
the middle of the fields. Praise be to God, in the forest there is
enough wood and to spare. Perhaps some one will catch us up who can
lend me an axe." And as he spoke he saw a man coming towards them.
"Well met, good man!"
"So your carriage has broken the road!"
"Put chaff aside, man; it would be better if you came and helped me to
mend this axle, for you can see my heart's breaking with my ill luck."
"But I am in a hurry to get to Oshlobeni. You'll have to lament in
the forest to-night; I don't think you'll die of boredom."
"I am ashamed of you," said Nichifor sulkily. "You are older than I
am and yet you have such ideas in your head."
"Don't get excited, good man, I was only joking. Good luck! The Lord
will show you what to do." And on he went.
"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. We must have another try."
And again he began to cut another sapling. He tried and he tried
till he got that, too, into place. Then he whipped up the mares and
once more trotted a little way, but at the first slope, the axle-pin
broke again.
"Now, Mistress Malca, I must say the same as that man, we shall have
to spend the night in the forest."
"Oh! Woe is me! Woe is me! Mosh Nichifor, what are you saying?"
"I am saying what is obvious to my eyes. Look yourself; can't you see
the sun is going down behind the hill, and we are still in the same
place? It is nothing at all, so don't worry. I know of a clearing
in the wood quite near here. We will go there, and we shall be just
as though we were at home. The place is sheltered and the mares can
graze. You'll sleep in the carriage, and I shall mount guard all
night. The night soon passes, we must spend it as best we can, but I
will remind my old woman all the rest of her days of this misfortune,
for it is her fault that things have gone so with me."
"Well, do what you think best, Mosh Nichifor; it's sure to be right."
"Come, young lady, don't take it too much to heart, for we shall be
quite all right."
And at once old Nichifor unharnessed the mares and, turning the
carriage, he drew it as well as he could, till he reached the clearing.
"Mistress Malca, it is like a paradise straight from God here; where
one lives for ever, one never dies! But you are not accustomed to the
beauty of the world. Let us walk a little bit while we can still see,
for we must collect sticks to keep enough fire going all night to
ward off the mosquitoes and gnats in the world."
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? Do you
hear the turtle-doves calling to each other?"
"Mosh Nichifor, won't something happen to us this evening? What will
Itzic say?"
"Itzic? Itzic will think himself a lucky man when he sees you at
home again."
"Do you think Itzic knows the world? Or what sort of accidents could
happen on the road?"
"He only knows how to walk about his hearth or by the oven like my
worn-out old woman at home. Let me see whether you know how to make
a fire."
Malca arranged the sticks; old Nichifor drew out the tinder box and
soon had a flame. Then old Nichifor said:
"Do you see, Mistress Malca, how beautifully the wood burns?"
"I see, Mosh Nichifor, but my heart is throbbing with fear."
"Ugh! you will excuse me, but you seem to belong to the Itzic
breed. Pluck up a little courage! If you are so timid, get into the
carriage, and go to sleep: the night is short, daylight soon comes."
Malca, encouraged by old Nichifor, got into the carriage and lay down;
old Nichifor lighted his pipe, spread out his sheepskin cloak and
stretched himself by the side of the fire and puffed away at his pipe,
and was just going off to sleep when a spark flew out on to his nose!
"Damn! That must be a spark from the sticks Malca picked up; it has
burnt me so. Are you asleep, Mistress?"
"I think I was sleeping a little, Mosh Nichifor, but I had a nightmare
and woke up."
"I have been unlucky too; a spark jumped out on to my nose and
frightened sleep away or I might have slept all night. But can anyone
sleep through the mad row these nightingales are making? They seem
to do it on purpose. But then, this is their time for making love to
each other. Are you asleep, young lady?"
"I think I was going to sleep, Mosh Nichifor."
"Do you know, young lady, I think I will put out the fire now at once:
I have just remembered that those wicked wolves prowl about and come
after smoke."
"Put it out, Mosh Nichifor, if that's the case."
Old Nichifor at once began to put dust on the fire to smother it.
"From now on, Mistress Malca, you can sleep without anxiety till the
day dawns. There! I've put out the fire and forgotten to light my
pipe. But I've got the tinder box. The devil take you nightingales:
I know too well you make love to each other!"
Old Nichifor sat thinking deeply until he had finished his pipe, then
he rose softly and went up to the carriage on the tips of his toes.
Malca had begun to snore a little. Old Nichifor shook her gently
and said:
"Mistress Malca! Mistress Malca!"
"I hear, Mosh Nichifor," replied Malca, trembling and frightened.
"Do you know what I've been thinking as I sat by the fire?"
"What, Mosh Nichifor?"
"After you have gone to sleep, I will mount one of the mares, hurry
home, fetch an axle-pin and axe, and by daybreak I shall be back
here again."
"Woe is me! Mosh Nichifor, what are you saying? Do you want to find
me dead from fright when you come back?"
"May God preserve you from such a thing! Don't be frightened, I was
only talking at random."
"No, no, Mosh Nichifor, from now on I shall not want to sleep;
I shall get down and sit by you all night."
"You look after yourself, young lady; you sit quietly where you are,
for you are comfortable."
"I am coming all the same."
And as she spoke down she came and sat on the grass by old
Nichifor. And first one, and then the other was overcome by sleep,
till both were slumbering profoundly. 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.