The next day he came again, and spent half an hour with Marta. Then for a whole week he went there every day at the same hour, and grew daily more pleased to find the lawyer out. During the following week he said to his mother joyously:

“Mother, I am going to marry Domsa’s daughter!”

Doamna Bologa was aghast. Marta seemed to her too coquettish and too frivolous. A girl brought up without restrictions—Doamna Domsa had died four years ago—could not be a suitable wife for Apostol. She tried to make him change his mind, and once again called in the aid of Protopop Groza. All to no purpose. The betrothal was celebrated quietly, just a family affair, and it was arranged that the wedding should take place in a year or two, when Apostol would have completed his studies.

Soon after the betrothal there came to Parva a lieutenant of the Imperial Light Infantry, son of the Hungarian judge and very arrogant and conceited. Apostol looked on him disdainfully, whereas Marta thought him interesting and attractive. The Sunday following his arrival the “Charity Ball” took place. Although Apostol did not care for dancing, on that night he danced furiously so as not to run the risk of letting “that other fellow” outdo him. The lieutenant, however, danced very little and with only three girls, one of whom was Marta. And Apostol saw the ill-concealed pride and pleasure which this caused her.

In three days the young man’s heart had become filled with bitterness. He was wretched, and thoughts of suicide floated through his mind. He compared himself with the lieutenant, and felt sure that Marta in her heart preferred the brilliant uniform … and he, being the son of a widow, had not even served in the Army. At one desperate moment he thought he would renounce this privilege in order to be able to come back in a year wearing an officer’s uniform and to show that he also could look like “that other fellow”. In any case, he was not going to be done out of Marta’s love. Just because she was like that he loved her all the more. He’d fight and win her for good and all. If she was not able to rise to his level, he would go down to hers. But Marta would have to love no one but him!

Just about that time rumours of war began to spread, and one fine day the lieutenant was obliged to cut short his leave and rejoin his regiment in a great hurry. Next day a triumphant Apostol called on Marta. But when the talk veered round to the lieutenant Marta remarked with melancholy eyes:

“A nice man! Now he will become a hero!”

Apostol’s face paled. He made up his mind to break off the engagement, to admit uncompromisingly to his mother that she had been right, and to go back to his books. But that would be cowardice. If at his first encounter with life he owned himself beaten, what would his future be?

And then on the top of his troubles came the war. And his “conception of life”, which for three years he had been building out of and propping up with philosophical reflections, tottered on its foundations. The war had not been reckoned with in his “conception”. And a decision had to be arrived at at once. He talked it over with Palagiesu, without result.