Roumanian Stories Part 26

The years come, the years go; the world moves on, and man is sometimes at peace with the world, and sometimes at odds with it. The high road pa.s.sed through the town, pa.s.sed by the Dry Valley and ran farther on to the Rapitza Valley. Where the roads met, at the conjunction of the two valleys, there was a mill on the Rapitza. Near Rapitza was a cross; close to the cross was a fountain, and by the fountain were eight fine sycamores. This spot was called "The Cross of Saraceni." From here to Saraceni was only about an hour by road. In spite of this, whenever he came from the town, the man of Saraceni pulled up here to water his horse, and waited a while, hoping that some wayfarer might come and ask: "What village is that where one sees that beautiful church with white walls and the glittering tower?" And when he is asked, he strokes his moustache, and looking proudly towards the place replies: "Up there on the Grofnitza? That's our village--Saraceni; but you ought to hear the bells--what bells that tower contains! One can hear them a three hours' journey away!"

Where the road divided there stood a sign-post with two arms; on one arm was written, "To the Rapitza Valley," and on the other one, "Towards the Dry Valley." There was no road anywhere round about like the one that ran through the Dry Valley towards Saraceni.

It was as smooth as a table, and as solid as a cherry-stone. One could see the Saracenese had constructed it lovingly. To right and left, at intervals of ten to fifteen paces, were some shady nut-trees which were a pleasure to look at. The river-bed lay on the right; the road ran along its bank, but higher up, so that the water could not disturb it. The Saracenese had to destroy rock in their progress, but that they did cheerfully, for out of the rock they built the road.

From here on, the Saracene felt at home, and drove at a foot's pace. But he was not bored for a second. At every step almost he met an acquaintance with whom he exchanged words, "Where do you come from?" and "Where are you going?" One man had a cart full of lime, another a load of apples; then came a man carrying a trellis-work, and another with a wheelbarrow, a stave, or some other article made of wood.

From time to time, along the side of the road, one found the stone-masons at work, their trowels ringing from daybreak till sunset. This road was not a dreary one!

There were lime-kilns where the road ran along the valley. In one place there was a whole village. Some men were loading up lime, others unloading stone and wood; the masons were shaping the stones, the men at the kilns were throwing wood on to the fires; the foremen were making noise enough for five.

From this point one could see the village well. The gardens were full of trees; only between the bushes or beyond the trees did one catch a glimpse here and there of a bit of the walls or the roofs of the houses. The priest's house was just up by the church; one could only see five windows and a red roof with two chimney stacks. Opposite the church stood the school. The house, of which one could only see a piece of wall with two windows and a roof, belonged to Marcu Flori Cucu.

The big building visible lower down was the Town Hall. If the houses had lain less closely together the village would have looked very beautiful, but, as it was, one only caught a glimpse and must imagine the rest.

Every one had changed; Father Trandafir only had remained the same: fresh, gay, and busy. If his grey hair and grizzled beard had not betrayed his age, we might have thought that the little children with whom he played in the evening, on the seat in front of the house, were his own. One of them, whom he had lifted up to kiss, stole his hat from off his head and ran away with it. Mariuca opened the window and called out:

"My little Trandafir, don't leave grandfather bareheaded."

Then she flew from the window to catch Ileana, who had stolen her grandmother's bonnet and adorned herself with it, and was now proudly showing herself to her grandfather. The old grandfather laughed heartily, he loved a joke. From close by came Father Costa, and caught first Ileana and then Mariuca, kissed them, and then seated himself by his father-in-law's side. Marcu, neighbour and old friend, Mariuca's father-in-law, and attached to the house, saw the group and came to join in the conversation.

"Old man, take your hat; you must not sit there bare-headed," said the grandmother, handing his hat through the window.

One of the villagers, in pa.s.sing, wished him "Good night," and added to himself, "May the Lord preserve him for many years, for he is one of G.o.d's own men."

OUT IN THE WORLD

By ION POPOVICI-BANATZEANU

The man tramping along the broad, dusty highway gradually drew near to a town. He carried a bundle on his back--some old clothes, a change of underlinen and a pair of boots--and at his breast, wrapped up in a handkerchief, were his certificate of baptism, his work-book and his book of military service--all his worldly goods.

For three years he had served the Emperor, and failing to find employment in the town where he was, with a stick in his hand and a few coppers in his pocket he had set out into the world, and walked with the steadiness of a man well acquainted with the road.

Some one had advised him to go to Lugosh; he had heard there were many craftsmen there driving a big trade, and he pursued his way with hope in his heart. He felt strong and eager to work. For three years he had not seen a workshop, for three years he had not followed the craft which he had learnt so lovingly; it seemed to him he would hardly know how to handle a hide now. Yet with each step forward his confidence in himself increased, and he thought, "I will work, and work so that every one wonders, and the peasant who takes in his hand the sandals I have tanned will never want to part with them." And when he said this to himself he walked faster. He would have liked to fly that he might arrive quicker. But then again he slackened his pace, and other thoughts a.s.sailed him: supposing he did not get a situation, what would he do then?

"Supposing I do not find work?"

He was afraid to answer this or to think of what he would do if he did not get a place. Ah, just to find work with somebody. He comforted himself, and putting away from him all sad thoughts he imagined a rosy future. He saw himself in the workshop doing the work of seven, and saving penny after penny; he saw himself buying first one skin, then two, then three, six and more, and many more, until he had a workshop of his own, and then, if he met a girl he liked, he would marry.

He was intoxicated by his own thoughts, and hardly knew where he was going. He walked slowly with his head bent. He would not rest, for he felt no fatigue; it was as though some one urged him forward.

It was late autumn, the fields were bare and the road dreary. Buffeted by the wind, the poplars along the side of the road were shedding their leaves, and sadly swaying their pointed tops.

The country lay barren and dead, while the voiceless hills were glowing in the light of the setting sun like a man who, on the point of death, tries to save himself by some final remedy. The outlines of solitary fountains prolonged themselves mournfully against the horizon, as though they regretted the life and gaiety of other days. A flight of crows, frightened by I know not what, rose from the dark marshes and alighted upon the tops of the poplars, beating their wings and cawing above the waste.

But Sandu saw and heard nothing; he walked absorbed in himself and communing with his own heart.

He entered the town as the lights were being lit. He took no side turnings but kept to the main street so that the dogs should not hinder him.

"Keep straight on," he said to himself, "past the Roumanian church, then I take the turning to the right till I get to the bridge and at the bridge I must ask my way."

And at the bridge he asked his way, but they explained it in such a manner that he lost himself, and it was late before he reached the hostel. He bade good evening and asked rather diffidently whether there were anywhere he could sleep, and if there were something to eat.

The innkeeper entered into conversation with him, and learnt that Sandu came from the Dobre district, had done three years' military service, and now was looking for a situation with some tanner.

"I have come," Sandu spoke with difficulty, "to see if I can find a place here, for you see----"

"Who knows, perhaps you may," the innkeeper interrupted him, and went out of the room.

"Should you say I shall find a place?" Sandu asked the innkeeper as he brought him some lard and a piece of bread.

"Oh, you may find one if you are good at your trade and hard-working."

Sandu said nothing; the only word he could have uttered would have been to say, as he could have said, how hard he meant to work, and what kind of a man he was. But as he could not say this to the innkeeper he told himself what a lot of work he meant to do, and how well he meant to behave himself, as well as if he were a young girl.

Absorbed in thought, he ate at long intervals, and the innkeeper, seeing how silent he was, bade him put out the lamp and wished him a good night.

But the night was not restful. He crossed himself and stretched himself out on the bench by the side of the wall, his bundle he placed at his head and carefully pushed his money and his papers underneath it. Although he was tired from his tramp, sleep would not visit his eyes. He grew excited, a sort of giddiness overcame him, and he broke into a cold sweat at his own thoughts. He tossed and turned on the narrow bench, and pressed his forehead against the cold wall as he sighed heavily.

When the day broke he was exhausted, his bones seemed weak, his feet could hardly support him, and his head felt queer. Water, and the freshness of the early morning, revived him, and he made his way to the market-place where, according to the innkeeper, he would find the booths of the master-tanners.

Although it was autumn, people were in no hurry to buy sandals, and only a few of the master-tanners, who did business here on Sundays, were walking about and moving their strips of leather according to the position of the sun so as to ensure them being in the shade.

Sandu stood still by the cross in the market-place, and it seemed as if a knife went through his heart; when he saw the empty booths he felt as though his last atom of will had been destroyed. He felt as though he must turn back, as though he could not ask. It seemed to him as though he had not the strength to bear hearing one of the tanners tell him he had no place for him; it would be such a catastrophe that he would sink into the earth.

Not knowing what he did he moved forward; but when he approached the first booth he lost confidence, and had not the courage to greet the master.

He pa.s.sed on. He walked round the booths two or three times, but could not summon up courage to ask whether one of the tanners had a situation open or not.

"Now I will go," he said very firmly to himself, to give himself strength, but when he moved he saw a peasant go up to the booth. "I will let him make his purchase and then I will go."

But he did not stir, he was afraid, especially when the master, not being able to come to terms with the peasant, undid the box, and flung the sandals violently into it. He did nothing; it seemed terrible to him to have to go up to the booth. He did not know why. He felt angry with himself that it should be so. And as he asked himself why he was like this, he recalled to mind various acquaintances who were so very bold and fearless. If only he could be like that! But he could not be so, his nature did not allow it.

"Now you good-for-nothing, you are wandering about here like a sheep in a pen," a tanner, small of stature, with brown eyes and a harsh voice, said roughly to him.

"I?" stammered Sandu. "I am not a good-for-nothing."

"No? Then why do you keep coming round? Haven't I seen you? You walk a bit, you stand still, you have been round us several times, and now you are standing still again; it is as though you had some evil intention!"

"Master, I am not----"