Three weeks later the answer came; he had been granted a place in an endowed college in Budapest, which meant full board and lodging, and even a few crowns a month pocket-money.

At the University he met with expected and unexpected difficulties. He overcame them with enthusiastic courage. He learnt Hungarian and German in a few months, and so well that after his first examination he received congratulations and an invitation to dinner from his Professor of Philosophy, who was old, poor, and the scion of a noble family. The relations between master and pupil then became those of a father-confessor and a believer. A good judge of character, the professor soon understood Apostol’s restlessness and took him to his heart. To him it seemed that this young man was typical of a generation which, losing its faith in God, strives to find something outside the human soul, a scientific God, free from mystery, an absolute truth beyond which there should be nothing and which should contain and explain all things.

The serenity and sympathy of the professor gradually calmed the exaltation of the student, and when he came home for his first vacation he brought with him a “conception of life” which he explained all the summer to Alexandru Palagiesu, who had now a lawyer’s practice in Parva.

“Man alone is nothing but a worm,” the student would assert with as much confidence as if he had discovered the philosopher’s stone, “a mere spark of fleeting consciousness. Only organized collectivity becomes a constructive force, old man! As a single unit man is useless, whereas in a collectivity every effort finds its place and altogether contributes to the advancement of the individual, while the concerted activity of all collectivities brings humanity nearer to God. To-day, through lack of organization, at least 90 per cent. of the work done by the human brain is wasted.… Just imagine what would be the result if, by means of a perfect system of organization, the mental efforts of all human beings were directed to the same aim! How many men are there on the earth to-day? Let us say two thousand million. Very well, would the unknown still exist if two thousand kilograms of grey matter would in one common impulse storm the closed gates?”

“Which means in plain Rumanian that we are to do things in common,” said the lawyer, “that we are to do our duty to the State—that’s it, isn’t it? Well, our laws enjoin us to do the same thing.”

“No, not the laws.… Conscience must dictate your duty, not the laws. There’s a great difference.…” Apostol would flare up and vehemently he would begin his explanations anew.

For two years in Budapest he tested his “conception of life” in all circumstances, and after each test he found it better and more satisfactory. But he hated living in the capital. The noise of the streets, the self-centredness of the people, the mechanizing of life, irritated him. He desired ardently the enlightenment of the soul, and that he believed was impossible to attain amongst large congregations of men. In the midst of nature he felt free and nearer the heart of the world. Whenever he had time he ran away from the town. He was as familiar with the hills round about Buda as he was with the country surrounding Parva. It was only when he came home that he noticed that he had shaped his life on a last which was not appreciated at all there. In Parva his “conception” rocked and efforts were needed to prevent it from collapsing. Here the State was looked upon as an enemy. It was during his third vacation, whilst arguing with the lawyer Domsa, who, after the death of old Bologa, had made a fortune in Parva, that he succeeded in finding a satisfactory reasoning.

“I don’t affirm that our State is a good one,” exclaimed Apostol with sudden inspiration. “I don’t affirm that at all. Give me a better State and I’ll take my hat off to it. But so long as this one exists we must do our duty by it. Otherwise we should fall into anarchy, sir. In life we must reckon with realities, not with longings.”

The lawyer Domsa was very fond of him, and foresaw a brilliant future for him, an opinion shared as a matter of fact by all the gentlemen of Parva, and even those of Nasaud. It was common talk that Apostol was the darling of the Faculty and that he would most certainly become a professor at the University. For that reason Domsa paid court to him to a slight extent in the hope of attracting his attention to his daughter Marta, a little girl of about seventeen, sweeter and more ingenuous than any lass on the shores of the Someş, and who, in addition, had a substantial dowry, being Domsa’s only child.

One fine day, wishing to continue the discussion, Apostol called at the lawyer’s house. The latter was out, but Marta received him. He stayed half an hour chatting on indifferent topics, expecting Domsa to come in any minute.