My father said that some old men, who had heard it from old Nichifor’s own lips, had told him that at that time it was a good business being a cab-driver in Neamtzu town. You drove from Varatic to Agapia, from Agapia to Varatic, then to Razboeni; there were many customers, too, at the church hostels. Sometimes you had to take them to Peatra, sometimes to Folticeni, sometimes to the fair, sometimes to Neamtzu Monastery, sometimes all about the place to the different festivals.
My father also said he had heard from my grandfather’s grandfather that the then prior of Neamtzu is reported to have said to some nuns who were wandering through the town during Holy Week:
“Nuns!”
“Your blessing, reverend Father!”
“Why do you not stay in the convent and meditate during Passion Week?”
“Because, reverend Father,” they are said to have replied with humility, “this wool worries us, but for that we should not come. Your Reverence knows we keep ourselves by selling serge, and though we do not collect a great deal, still those who go about get something to live on....”
Then, they say, the prior gave a sigh, and he laid all the blame on old Nichifor, saying:
“I would the driver who brought you here might die, for then he could not bring you so often to the town.”
They say old Nichifor was greatly troubled in his mind when he heard 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.”