Chapter IIII returned to Bucharest later than expected, towards the end of September, long after everyone had returned from their vacations and the trees that lined the boulevard were turning gold.
That’s when I met you, freshly back from Paris, where you were doing some kind of medical studies which Andrei had mentioned with a certain scepticism (“That Ştefan Valeriu is never going to do anything serious with his life”), and perhaps you remember how embarrassed I was that day, when he shouted after you in the street, to introduce us, suggestively, beaming with pride. I felt as if he was waiting to be congratulated for making such a catch, for his “success”. He seemed to delight in my dress, my eyes, your amazement.
You don’t know how I fought with him, to temper his enthusiasm and indis
