A strong boy – his beard barely ruffles his curly and thick hair under his sheep’s hat and some gentle, lying young eyes. When he left home to go to Bucharest for so many years in schools, his mother – a good woman! – he kissed him so many times, he adjusted his hair, smoothed his hat and kissed him again, and said:
– Niţă, mother, you are going beautiful and healthy: may God and the Mother of God help you to come back to me in the same way!
And as good as the old woman was, she could not control herself… she overcame her crying. He often let her go, and she kept him from stroking him. It burned him to go, and at least his mother was dear to him, as if he were now in trouble because she was too late to leave. He also wept, it is true, for her weeping; but while his eyes were sad, the imagination flew happily on the road that opened long and unknown to him before.
Three years of unwavering monotony… The same clocks… the same steps ani three whole years! The fourth, although it had been announced from the beginning to follow the same unshakable path, retained for later a novelty, a strange surprise.
Next to the seminary, an old aristocratic house… From the windows and from the porch behind it, you can see -8-over the wall in the school playground. Once, on a holiday, Niță walked alone in the yard with a book in his hand: he had stayed in school to prepare for the upcoming exams. It was a tangled dogma: he walked around the courtyard, repeating by heart with the book in his hand. It is difficult to remember such tortured phrases… Open the book again…
Passing by the wall, the seminarian shuddered: a ball of paper struck him on the hand, and sliding over the open book, he jumped as far as he could. Nothing stopped on the spot… Necessarily, and a joke from a comrade… a piece of bread dipped in ink… or who knows what.
He looked around… No one in the school yard… The blow had come from the houses next door… He looked up and saw the nearest window, which was open, the curtains moving as if someone were hiding behind… What -it might be?
Let’s see… The seminarian bent down and took the ball: it was something wrapped inside… He wanted to untie it… A sting… A needle with a lump! What a fool! ”Angrily, he dropped the ball and began to wipe his stabbed finger, at the top of which, after each squeeze, a large, red bead grew back.
The gem, struck with earthly trouble, unfolded… a flower between its folds!… With astonishment and more remembrance than the first time, he picked up the paper nicely… It was really a carnation – like the blood flowing from his finger – recently broken…
Then unpack better… Something written…
The young man’s body felt tingled from head to toe with a hot shiver… All the heat rose to his forehead… Hidden in his chest the paper and the flower, he searched around with his eyes not to see anyone from school what had happened, and he ran inside without daring to look up at the window where the curtains were moving.-9-
Sick… Colds and heartbeats, so you can’t stand up. The headmaster was convinced that the boy was ill, and sent him to rest. Niţă went up to the bedroom, threw herself on the bed, took the flower out of her breast and read the note again and again:
– You’re beautiful… If you wanted to, I’d love you so much.
… If he wanted to!…
Who to be? He is not a child; he’s been a young man for twenty-three years… Who?… A woman!
The patient jumps out of bed, leaves the bedroom and without notifying anyone, as required by the regulations, goes out the gate. In front of the neighboring houses, he calms down and crosses the road so that he can grab the whole façade in one fell swoop. The attic windows are all closed and the curtains left.
He knows he’s beautiful… His mother often told him, maybe more often the girls in the village, but of course, more than anything, Cuțiteiu’s sister, Sultana, who never told him… With mixed love and a little pride he smiles when his mother comes to mind.
It was getting late and the seminarian was still walking back and forth in front of the house where the woman who would love him most “if he wanted to” was.… The dinner bell rings at school. That wakes him up; he hurries and enters.
They are all at the table; he is not hungry… He goes and goes to bed, putting the note and the carnation under the pillow, after looking again for a long time at the icon of those words, which from now on he can never forget.
The noise of the other boys coming into the bedroom upsets him a lot. At their entrance, he quickly puts his hand under his head, grabs the hidden wealth and stands still… Some ask him something… he doesn’t understand what… he doesn’t breathe, pretending to be asleep.
Near midnight… Everyone is finally asleep. Niţă gets up slowly and leaves with the utmost caution; find-10-the door of the room is touched and goes down to the courtyard… At the light window… the windows open and the curtains left. He remains staring at it, wandering in another world, which he had dreamed of as if he had often, but he never hopes to see.
The young man swells his chest, stretching his arms, numb from the cold, until his wrists crack, when the curtains fall to one side and a woman puts her hand on the windows to close them. The seminarian freezes; he wants to shout, but he can’t, and until the effect of the blow passes, the window is closed, the curtains are left, and the light is off.
The day is approaching when the young man decides to return to the bedroom… He throws himself on the bed, rests his heart, in which he feels an indefinite grip, on his right hand, and on his left his forehead warm – he falls asleep and sleeps until the snack bell.
Three nights of ambush… four… five… and as many days harder than the nights: hours of classes and meditations… the noise of comrades, the inability to be alone with his imagination… and the cold… and the windows still closed… and the curtains forever left.
The doctor, a man of spirit, when the father-director introduced Niță, stroked the young man, grabbing him jokingly by the tulle in his beard, and said:
– He has nothing, Father… to walk more often… and he passes.
Niţă was urged by his comrades and the parent-director to go for a walk; he preferred to stay at school so that he could get on with the lessons, left behind by the cold… Of course, his superior was delighted with so much diligence.
Breakfast is over… Now school is in vain. The forced laborer goes to the backyard… But-11- if the windows are still closed? ‘ is tied with a red cord:
– Go to midnight… I’m waiting for you… You’ll see how much I love you.
And no movement on the curtains… no appearance!…
The day passes slowly însă but sometimes it is so sweet and in the pain of waiting! But at night! the seminarians have never fallen asleep so late! ”Fortunately, no hindrance.
He jumps over the gate without a hitch and heads straight for the known target. A woman in the shadow of the gang!… He stops drowning. She whispers, “Come, she’s waiting for you!”… Then… that’s not it!
He lets himself be taken by the hand and led slowly into the darkness… A narrow staircase… dark rooms… and a few steps. The warrior walks by car, letting himself be dragged like a sleepy child by the woman’s hand. At every uncertain step, at every hesitation, a pause for a moment, a discreet chatter, a whisper of encouragement and forward!
They stop… The woman lets go of his hand… For a moment, abandoned in the blind and unknown place, he is at a loss – a bent column from which the safety prop would be torn off – he hears his ears whistling loudly and feels his knees leaving -it.
Now the woman strikes deafly with the tip of her fingernails on a door – I’m next to a door – which immediately opens.
There is light inside – blue light… a quiet and lazy blue… The woman who led him into the darkness pushes him gently into the light. The yielding column bends, with all the weight of the strong body of twenty-three years, in blue… and the door closes on the outside.
Words?… Can words fit?-12-
How a woman knows how to caress – how her delicate fingers thrust into her tense muscles – and her ice-cold mouth – and her drunken eyes – and the small fluff on her cheeks lit with shivers – the languid curvature of her body – her heart pounding against the walls of her breast – and the nameless smell that radiates from the roots of her hair – and how good it is to leave yourself in control of these so many feelings that envelop you on all sides like swirls of warm steam saturated with sleeping essences…
With words to say to them?… These are felt and thought, to be said cannot be said… It was a grinding of the soul, sweet and painful, an exaltation of feeling, terrible and delicious.
Many similar nights and each unmatched… Libations under the rays of the blue lamp; all imagined and unimaginable folly; spicy anecdotes of which he has such a rich popular repertoire; scenes of speechless and even sudden jealousy; and games, and bites; and fights, so unequal, for her as power, for him as charm… and then, after so much fatigue, the reciprocal story of what happened before she met.
He had little to tell… This was how narrow the village where he had lived was, and so insignificant was his life until «a needle with a sting bit him!»… The peasant’s lace – he cared a lot about this phrase; he is well aware that, accompanied by the suggestion of a pricked finger and a look under his gloomily gloomy eyebrows, he will be overly rewarded.
But she had more to say, and her story was rather sad. – Five years of life with a tired man, then crazy and paralyzed; Behind her, a widow with a sick child and a head, – a little girl, who gnaws and eats things in the house and who must be guarded very closely so as not to set fire. Big interests… a colossal fortune… council-13- of family… mother-in-law and brothers-in-law – some harsh and brutal creatures, who are surrounded by a disgusting police.
And here, in the face of his favorite phrase, came as appropriate:
“Imagine my thirst for life!” how I missed you!
The warmth so long in that beautiful being now poured out with an invincible start: it was short but full for him that happy time.
But it’s over.
He had to give it up when the wall of the family council was built between them. He, of course, could not allow such a wandering… Complaints… revolt – superfluous. A last effort on the part of the desperate was greeted in a decisive way.
When the seminarian dared to disregard the compelling recommendations communicated to him and to step on the threshold, which he once stepped on to happiness, which he considered an expensive right, he had to pay his reckless step. It was a well-deserved abuse, maybe, but too wild anyway. The squabbles in charge of correcting the daredevil, were overzealous: the bastard, taken without news, was crushed by blows… his head broken, his chest crushed with his heels. In a state of complete numbness, he was thrown into the school gate, where he was found, the next morning, by the servants more dead than alive.
All the running and perseverance of the parent-principal in order to expose and punish the criminals, who had so cruelly threatened the life of the favorite student, had to cease. The old man was called before the high pastoral faces. They rebuked him for not doing his duty, for not taking his schoolchildren’s morals seriously enough, and made him understand that if he wanted to remain a principal, he would not interfere in -14-what happens outside the gate of the seminary: this is the business of the court cheeks, not the church ones!
Nothing stayed long between life and death; months passed before he could recover. He did not die of it; but perhaps the nights which the mother, hastily summoned, spent at the head of the wretched man, would have greatly shortened the poor old woman’s days. Since then he has been left with a heart disease, which caused him many unpleasant moments until his death.
But he was healed… He set out in search of lost luck… Too late… The houses were falling apart and the work had begun on the wing where once was the blue room… The woman had died… The sick child was in an educational institute abroad… The family council did not stay in the breast.
First a holy resignation, then little by little if not forgetting, at least calming the longing under the pile of years. Ten years!… The seminarian is now a priest, – the priest Niță from Dobreni – a seated man and very well seen by the whole community.
In the morning, the city of residence of the county is very lively – the annual fair. Priest Niță walks through the main street as he walks to the fair from place to place, or where, without a definite goal…
In front of the cafe in the center there are a lot of people, who look at something and laugh out loud… Maybe a learned animal, which denounces the age and visions of the spectators; or some straw… or something else. The crowd is constantly growing… The pope follows the crowd. On the sidewalk of the cafe, on chairs and standing, stand the notables of the city – the county representatives on parliamentary vacation, members of the tribunal, officials from the prefecture, town hall, cashier, officers; all around the variegated world of all stages stands in a semicircle. Comedy takes place in the middle. Popa Niță also enters.-15-
What is it? What makes so much sense?
A child of about eight and nine years old, ragged and dirty, barefoot, dressed in inappropriate clothes – a large gherok, whose waist comes to his ankles, a flattened cylinder on his head – makes jokes.
It’s a tiny, very naughty mask – scarred, scarred and yellow; her dry thighs, which can be seen through the tears, are full of skins. So devastating, it is still very bold. He smokes a long cigarette, grimaces strangely, fools and swears at the boyars, calling them by their familiar nicknames. She begins to sing a shameful song, playing the giamparales, making unforgivable gestures and movements… The world is making an unspeakable joke… he seeks a place to escape his gaze, turns to him, bows, and says, walking away.
“Who knows what sins!” May God protect any child!
The little one, tired, stopped; he goes to greet very comically with his enormous cylinder, the boyars, and sits on a chair leg, over the leg, next to the senator… Another cigarette… The senator treats him with coffee and rum. Another “friend” entices him with another glass… and another…
The child gets up and starts playing again… Now the movements and gestures are even more obvious… But slowly the limbs lose the safety and symmetry of the movements; the song is deaf, the uneven articulation… Another stanza! But the panting drowns him… The singer stops for a moment, staggering, soft in the middle: it’s yellow as wax; his eyes cross, extinguished in the back of his head… A strain, aroused by the unanimous urge of the amateurs! – Beat dead!-16-
Too many people had crowded… the traffic in the city was interrupted… The policeman called a little boy who lifted the little prostitute from there to disperse the crowd.
Popa Niță, with clenched fists, climbed the sidewalk and apostrophe, with the accent of the greatest indignation, those who laughed:
– It’s a shame, gentlemen! think about it! Christians!… Beautiful!… Great pity!
It is understood that the world, which had amused itself so well, did not find in its place the apostrophe of the moralist, and paid it with thick sarcasm. The pope could not find peace: he tapped his fingers nervously on the marble table of the table, muttering between his teeth all sorts of exclamations of indignation.
The coffee shop, who knows a lot, was ready to give all the details about that child. Unbelievable, but true… and the pope listened intently:
– She is a child of a good family – A widow of a mad boyar – In love with a country boy, a seminarian – Pregnant – Shame on the world – She is going to give birth at the estate – Dead by birth – The child is thrown away; he grows up with an old peasant woman who dies and he stays on the road – Here in the city he has been in trouble for about six months: he came to beg and, being damn kind, from toy to toy he ended up like this – A girl ill, fleeing from school abroad, badly ill there; later found by epitropi and returned to Bucharest; here he flees with one officer, from the officer he leaves with another. – A shoemaker wanted to give alms to the boy: he took him as an apprentice: I would! the thug doesn’t burn work – so bad! taught to ask, to smoke and to drink. The master once beat him as a parent; the rude has fled, and since then he has lived like this: he says naughty, masks,-17-and he also gets a piece of bread; he crawls from one to the other for alms, and sleeps God knows where his fatigue ends. ‘The whole city knows this history of memories; that’s why he calls him “Myth Boer”.
The pope, with his elbows on the table, clenching his temples in his fists, was left drowned in sweat, his eyes fixed on a fly that trembled on the white marble slab: he followed the insect to the edge of the table. What a calculation he would have made in his head as small as a poppy bean, it cannot be said: it is enough that he bites on the spot, unwinds his hind paws, stumbling on each other, smoothes his mustaches nicely with his front paws. , then suddenly he rises and perishes. The man, awake, got up from his chair and went out.
In vain searches… Can’t find baby. All the information of the night owls was wrong: at the fire station, it was not… in the post office, not… under the town hall shed like that: neither here nor there. Three, four hours of running after accurate news. In the square, the little boy knows for sure that Mitu Boerul has just entered with several officers and officials the cafe in the corner, where “the girls sing theater”.
The pope made an incredible sensation entering the place of the profane muses with his scary figure.
“Here’s the father!” cried the prosecutor in the tone of satisfaction with which a late guest is usually greeted. And one of the singers, who was sitting on the cashier’s lap, at the same table with the young magistrate, added: “Bless you, father father!”
Then began a roar, applause, trumpets, whistles, shouts: «Bravo, popa! Bis popa! ” – Infernal! a burning menagerie…
The colossal and spontaneous success did not affect our man at all: the noise at the bottom of this -18-the soul overwhelmed the merry storm outside. The pope moved resolutely to the middle of the room, looked everywhere and hurried away from the rain of laughter, mischievous jokes and boos…
He is not here either… But he cannot return to the host alone… As soon as possible… Forward!… Another little thing: maybe to Saint John, in the churchyard; sometimes the boy sleeps there, when the weather is good…
… He was really there…
Behind the altar, where a lantern from the cross throws its smoky rays, a small man rested crumpled, with his head on a grave without a name or a fence… Just now the priest noticed how much he had walked and sat down nicely to calm down. heart movements. He shyly reached for the boy’s head: then he felt distinctly at the point of his finger like a needle prick. As a child at war with the world, so early on, he seemed to have stopped at the altar, only to be able to sneak in under the sight of God, who, since he had pushed him to life, could not bear to throw them. at least once a search.
– God! the pope whispered in disgust; look at him, Lord; look at him too!
And grabbing the sleeping crotch tightly in his arms, he got up firmly and started. The boy, awakened by the shudder, muttered sleepily a curse and fell asleep again in the arms that hugged him so passionately.
On the dark streets of the city, the man carrying his treasure was lucky not to run into any obstacles: it was the hour when the lanterns could be turned off, when the villains had to sleep. He reached the host, woke up the visitor and the innkeeper, paid and left. The next day, before noon, they were at home in Dobreni.-19-
The priestess could not be satisfied with what the man had brought her from the fair. It is not difficult to bring such a child to a proper state. His whole body was only skinny and scarred from scratches and impurity. How many fiddles, how many corpses and ointments were needed to gradually lift, from the abandoned being, the shell in which they had wrapped it for so many years of misery!
The child gladly let himself do with him what they wanted. Harder to heal than blisters were the grips and habits… In the end, however, these too were to be defeated: the stories, the gentleness, a harsh word to the sisters, the devotion of the good people who had taken him to their warm breast, and especially a Prolonged illness has driven, if not completely, at least for the most part, both bad starts and habits. It is not possible for the skilled and patient gardener to straighten a fragile tree that has begun to grow crookedly.
When, having got rid of the vermin altogether, they clothed him in new clothes on a Sunday, – a man with laces of thread, white strings with a black silk cord and a hat with a tricolor ribbon, and the father said to him: – Wear them healthy , Myth; to grow up big, with mind and luck! the child put his hands in his pockets, looked seriously and long in the mirror and started laughing… and laugh! The woman and the man began to laugh at his laughter. But when the child turned to face them and met their eyes, the father took him in his arms, kissed him many times and started to cry… and cry!… And began the child and the woman.
They then went to church. The bribe in the new clothes made a sensation… Especially the women who caressed him more, because he was also a clean child.
He was so sick, Mitu was sick – dry cough, pain in his spoon, he didn’t eat anything and how many days did he put him to sleep… Cold?… Deochiu?… Tongue?…-20-
It was the dog’s disease… lying on the porch in the sun… barely crawling… Doctors, enchanted, for nothing: he trashed, exhausted seeing with his eyes!… Short search to be joy, and how much the man sees it shortening, thus grows his fierce imagination that today and tomorrow the happiness he found unexpectedly will end… Here now the light that had risen in his way without news sfâr is gone – the light was over.
The priest had fallen asleep about the day, dressed… The woman is still smart next to the sick man, who has been sleeping even better for a day. She put her hand on the child’s cheek – cold; He listened to his open mouth – nothing!
– School, Father! she screams in horror… Stop blowing!
The man jumped to his feet, took the boy in his arms and ran into the yard, shouting:
“Jump, people!” jump!
The sun appeared over the top of the hill… A lot of men, especially women, gathered. The priest had put the stiff child on the porch and knelt on his knees… A woman was holding the candle.
But he is not dead yet.
– I’m hungry!
Good doctor, the air of the Dobrenians! That being cleansed on the outside had to be preempted on the inside as well: that was his job and he took it very kindly on himself. The operation was painful and cruel; but it was necessary and fortunately he succeeded.
The boy, who had escaped completely, his fresh blood, began to brown his cheeks, as he had announced before, and to fill his eyes, gloomy and dark until now, with light and joy. It had been an extremely frightening struggle: life was now moving forward, bright and proud of such victory.
While the priestess Sultana hangs in the church from Dobreni a beautiful icon dedicated to the Mother of God -21-because she had given him what she had asked for, there was some movement in the downtown cafe in her hometown: she had followed Mitu Boerul.
His disappearance could not be ignored: it was a real damage to so many lovers of jokes. It is not known what it was: he had run away? He had died? The truth had finally been found. A note published in the local newspaper showed that at the time of the fair, a country priest, who had been walking drunk at Café-Chantant at night, had asked from boy to boy about the boy… The priest must have taken him.
The prosecutor took matters into his own hands and, “with an intelligence and a zeal that do him true honor,” he discovered that the “victim of the kidnapping” was at Popa Niță in Dobrenii-de-plaiu. Then the young magistrate, accompanied by the police, went to the appropriate local investigation.
Outraged that he wants to take her boy, the priest made an eloquent defense of his cause…
A child haunted by hunger; in the prey of shameful and murderous beginnings even for a ripe man; fornicated at the urging of the mocking world, insatiable with parties… Escaped from such a stepmother’s fate, returned from such a lost path – from death to life… He slept on the bare earth, sick and drunk, with his body fried from head to toe, scallops with a heart mad with wickedness… What would this child have done without shelter or mercy, when the storm and the frost had begun? “He would have died on a pile of garbage, like a stray stray dog.” And to say that he could have faced so much fierce storm! – What would have happened?… Crazy Hospital… Dungeon… Ocna!
The speaker’s speech had won over almost all the assistants… There was a benevolent impression on everyone’s faces. However, the prosecutor answered briefly:
– Popo, you can’t kidnap the minor! the minor must be returned to whom he belongs by right: the law is with him, the law protects minors!… Dura lex, sed lex!
The masterful and stern tone, the loud and dignified words of the prosecutor, must have overturned the impression that the priest had obtained with his sentimental eloquence. And the notary began to write, under the dictation of the man of law, the minutes.
He was determined: take her child! But he can’t leave him! But he takes it!
The pope blinked in bewilderment and saw blood before him. “Even for a deed or just for a demonstration, he himself could not say – he rushed to the room and took the rifle from the nail, when his brother-in-law.” Knife, the mayor, a man seen and walked by many, enters after him and grabs his hand… And the pope understood that never, in such high moments, inspiration should not be sought for a kilometer; she sits under our noses – whoever looks away, of course, won’t see it… Popa put the rifle on the nail – unlocked the box, rummaged in the bottom, and very discreetly left the lid, putting the veil back on top.
The mayor goes back to the minutes…
The lawman dictates:
– We have but…
The knife interrupted, very respectfully apologizing to the magistrate for saying something, and they both went out into the hall.
– Prosecutor, the mayor whispered with a certain look, the priest is a very nice man… You don’t know him… Welcome, welcome!
And opening the door, he very politely introduced the young graduate to the room where his father was waiting for him, impatiently. The prosecutor asked the notary:-2. 3-
– Where did I end up?
“We have it,” the notary replied gravely.
– Not so, said prosecutor: have , however .
And to the satisfaction of all, the representative of the public ministry dictates:
– But we have – considering the most detailed information, which unanimously shows His Holiness Father Niță from Dobrenii-de-plaiu as a man with the most beautiful qualities; Considering, on the other hand, the physical and moral progress made, under the care of His Holiness, by the minor Mitu, nicknamed “the Boer” – we intend to remain the above-mentioned minor, in complete absence of ascendants, .
In the evening there was a big meal at the priest Nita. The prosecutor had to give in to everyone’s prayers and postpone his departure for the next day. He “thought himself obliged” to pay the most sincere and warmest praise to his father’s human feelings at lunch, “whose example could not be sufficiently recommended.” – The prosecutor spoke a lot and nicely – he was very happy; Diplomat Cuțiteiu smiled meaningfully, winking at the priest as he held Mitu between his knees and, thinking of another world, passed his hand slowly through his soft white hair.
To a woman like the priestess Sultana, so good with a poor foreign child, God had to give her joy – and he gave it to her: in the same year she had a little girl… But what joy! It took a lot of hassle and effort for her to grow up – because she was a weird kid too! It is amazing how from such a gentle and submissive mother, to give birth to such natures!…
They once had a calf; they had taken him out of trouble – the cow had perished and the poor man had been left without a nipple… Who-24-take care – Ileana – she had been a fetish for about twelve years. Who fed him? Who had prayed with heaven and earth for me to let her lie down with her calf in the house? – Ileana. It was a wonderful love. One morning, however, she woke up snorting: she didn’t want to talk to her mother or father; they, like their parents, seeing her again in a bad mood, insulted her; she ran into the garden. Here he began to play with the little Priian as usual: he caught him stroking him and, clenching his teeth, he squeezed him hard. Either he didn’t feel like playing this morning, or his sign of love had upset him too much, the animal jerked and sprang away. She called him – he didn’t listen She went after him – he didn’t want to… She yelled at him – Priian ran away… And so on and so forth… His stubbornness increased according to her perseverance. She doesn’t want peace either… Tired, with all the blood on her cheeks, trembling with resentment, she went, took a piece of polenta and a bard, and turned again. As he saw her coming, Priian plunged into his hooves and hooked his tail… She approached gently … With his left hand outstretched, his right hidden behind his back, saying comforting words to her friend, who had bothered her… He aimed at her big and stupid eyes, and with and without confidence, throwing from her deep nostrils the sweet smell of milk … He stood motionless… The girl moved her hand gently… Priian stretched out his fragile snout, but until he grabbed the piece, Ileana pulled one with thirst into the curly reed on her forehead: the blade sank deep into the still unripe bone. Priian’s pretty head drowned in blood… The poor man rolled up and started jumping on his feet… He took a piece of polenta and a bard and turned again.… As he saw her coming, Priian dug into her hooves and hooked her tail.… She approached gently… with her left hand outstretched, her right hidden behind her, telling her friend , who had bothered her, caressed words… He aimed at her big and stupid eyes, and with and without confidence, throwing from the deep nostrils the sweet smell of milk… He stood motionless… The girl moved her hand gently lin Priian stretched his tender snout until the piece began, Ileana pulled one with thirst into the curly reed on her forehead: the blade sank deep into the still unripe bone. Priian’s pretty head drowned in blood… The poor man rolled up and started jumping on his feet… He took a piece of polenta and a bard and turned again.… As he saw her coming, Priian dug into her hooves and hooked her tail.… She approached gently… with her left hand outstretched, her right hidden behind her, telling her friend , who had bothered her, comforted words… He aimed at her big and stupid eyes, and with and without confidence, throwing from the depths of his wet nostrils the sweet stench of milk… He stood motionless… The girl moved her hand gently until the piece began, Ileana pulled one with thirst into the curly reed on her forehead: the blade sank deep into the still unripe bone. Priian’s pretty head drowned in blood… The poor man rolled up and started jumping on his feet… saying caressing words to her friend, who had bothered her… He aimed his big, stupid eyes at her, and with and without confidence, throwing the sweet stench of milk from the depths of her wet nostrils… She stood motionless lin The girl moved her hand gently fragile, but until the piece began, Ileana pulled one with thirst into the curly reed on her forehead: the blade sank deep into the still unripe bone. Priian’s pretty head drowned in blood… The poor man rolled up and started jumping on his feet… saying comforting words to her friend, who had bothered her fragile, but until the piece began, Ileana pulled one with thirst into the curly reed on her forehead: the blade sank deep into the still unripe bone. Priian’s pretty head drowned in blood… The poor man rolled up and started jumping on his feet…
Her mother saw her coming dark and splattered with blood on her cheek, her hands, her chest.
– I cut Priian at the bottom of the garden… Let me show you!-25-
When they arrived, Priian was done.
“Come on, come on!” cried my mother. “Why?”
He beat her badly… she endured – no words, no tears. – But my mother moaned a lot of grief and worries…
But when he was angry with his father and threw the candle out of the nail and ran for three days in the woods, did they not know where to look for it?
But later – big girl! – when, out of nothing, he grabbed Stanca Radii in his arms, and neither of them threw her from the top of the hill, where the dance was being held, by the ravine?… It took two guys to fight to get rid of the Rock… Too bad for such beauty and pride of a woman to be so cruel and stubborn!
The poor priestess Sultana called her the Mother of God for a long time.
The careless widower married his daughter soon after his wife’s death: she was no longer alive – she had to be born once.
The son-in-law is a good man; but he is weak of an angel… ugly and soft on his knees… he speaks peltic… he understands hard… Good man, how to fall… but he is not what he should be – especially for such a woman, another man must.
Mitu grew up big and strong… Today he is a teacher in Dobreni. Father Niță longed to have him close by and managed to exchange him here six months ago, so that he could marry and sit him.