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Life Begins on Friday
175
encounter with Nicu outside
the Central Girls’ School, his
visit to the Icoanei Church,
lasting one hour and twenty
minutes, his knocking on
the locked door of the
deacon, something about
a plump woman (named
Epiharia) who presumably
knew more, his departure
holding a blanket, and the
hours and hours he had
gone round in a circle,
at random, as if he were
trying to make fun of those
following him and had irked
the trusty coachman more
than he cared to say. He had
tugged on the reins dozens
of times, until the horse was
dizzy. And then there was
his chasing after a passer-
by on Brezoianu Street, and
finally, at the very end, his
taking refuge inside a hovel
next to the Church of St
Stephen, also known as the
Stork’s Nest. At this point,
the Police coachman had
cheated: between midnight
and the first cock’s crow,
he had gone home to bed,
sure that the man was not
capable of taking one more
step, because, unexpectedly
for a man of his status, he
had not taken a single cab
or coach ride during all his
lunatic roaming.
‘I’ll bet you anything he’s
a madman. We ought to
ask Mărcuța, and Dr Șuțu
on Plantelor Street, and Dr
Marinescu,atthePantelimon
Hospital.’ ‘Bravo, well said,
Budac. I shall ask you to go
there right away. I want an
answer by this afternoon.
And before anything else,
go to the Hospice in Teilor
to see how the young man
who was shot is doing. If
he is conscious, come back
immediately. It is extremely
important that I talk to him.’