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 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.