Mr. Guţă Gheorghiu had just one weakness, which as a matter of fact dominated him to a greater extent than anything else in the world: oleanders. And he did feel it was a weakness, because whenever you asked him how come so much love for a flower, he just shrugged his shoulders and answered with a smile: "Just tastes, boy; don't you know that there is no disputing about tastes?" And his taste was - in summer when he returned from his office at six o'clock in the afternoon, to find his courtyard wall sprinkled with water and his oleanders in bloom. He took his nose from one to the other, smelling here a bud and there a blossom, as if saying "Hail - flow - well – met." Then, he took off his coat and, in his shirt sleeves he took his chair out in order to read the most widely circulated newspaper, among his oleanders, in the shade of his oleanders, within the fragrance of his oleanders.And he was not exactly a man of means; when his party took office, he was appointed a clerk at the town hall. When his party was out, Mr. Guţă Gheorghiu, much downhearted, forgot about watering his oleanders for a few days; then he tendered his resignation, went to the opposition club, did all sorts of menial jobs; when election time came, he was Jack-of-all-trades. "What would you want from me, my venerable friend? One man likes the priest, another the the priest's wife... I like two things in this world: to be a man about house first of all my housework, in order to look after my oleanders; secondly to uphold my party."There was nothing else in the whole house: Guţă, Costache and... the oleanders. In Costache, Mr. Guţă Gheorghiu had discovered a sincere and devoted boy, who watered his oleanders."Sincere and devoted": those two words were always employed by Mr. Gheorghiu at the end of his letters to his betters.For three years Costache had looked after the flowers with parental care.When at his office, Guţă longed for his house as if for a corner of Eden. In winter time, the tubs with the oleanders were crowded into the hall of the house; at such times there was hardly any room in his home. He kept a fire burning for their sake, and that cost him an awful lot of money, much more than he could afford, particularly when his party was out. Mr. Guţă Gheorghidiu was a young bachelor, the most elegant and the proudest in Oleander Street, where he lived. It was on purpose he had chosen the street of that name. A native of the town of Alexandria, he had been brought to the capital city by "the ups and downs of life." What sort of ups and downs? That had remained an impenetrable secret to anybody. There was just one thing people knew: Guţă was an irreconcilable enemy to marriage. At all dinner parties and carousals, whenever he raised his glass end voice to give a toast, it was a foregone conclusion that Guţă was going to speak against the fair sex. He had even planned to write a volume on "The Romanian Woman of Dacia Trajana" but politics and the oleanders had interfered with his project.He owned the house in Oleander Street. A few lei laid by against a rainy day made his future secure. He would have been a wonderful match for any woman. And he had received no end of proposals. But he had always known how to reject all of them with rare manliness.People had almost grown accustomed to his resolve. Girls used to see him as a man with clothes, shoes and a hat; a man who talked, heard and saw; nothing more than that. Nobody, besides Costache, knew his weakness."My dear Costache, you are aware of my fancy for flowers. Tell me straight from the shoulders, Costache, d'you think one could find in the whole world a woman apt to love me to such an extent as to forgive me my defects, I mean my oleanders ? What can I do? Live the day to see my poor flowers withering in the very first months after the wedding? I will never hitch my wagon to a woman's before the day when I discover in her a sincere heart, devoted to the oleanders. Well... but woman is like politics; she does not need sincere and devoted hearts. As you noticed, I will never find such a woman, and to hope for such things would be like a glabrous man pulling at his beard! That's why I can't get married, my dear Costache." Now sly Costache had taken the cue. That clue was enough for him… He often called at the pub kept by Mr. Dobre at the corner. There's where he spent his time while Mr. Guţă Gheorghiu was at his chancellery. And he was fond of talk. Mr. Dobre had a marriageable daughter and he would have liked to have Costache's master as his son-in-law. He had however lost all hopes of that when one day, the servant, out of sincerity and devotion, let the cat out of the bag..."I see!" Mr. Dobre said, taking a finger to his temple… So much polities I myself can understand: we must first have the girl fall in love with the oleanders and then with their master."A few days later, some ten fine oleanders lined up in front of Dobre's public house. Miss Didina looked after them and watered them herself, right at the time when Guţă Gheorghiu was due to come from his office or go to it. When he first set eyes on them, it was a real holiday for him. He stopped, admired their beauty: they were the finest and of the tallest kind!"Good morning, Miss Didina! But what's this wonder?" The girl blushed. She was a very shy nature; but she found herself obliged to lie:"Thank you for your words, Mr. Gheorghiu, this is the only flower for which I care.""But it's not a beautiful flower; how is it that you like it?""Not beautiful? There you are wrong… but of course, there is no disputing about tastes." "Mr. Gheorghiu was left thinking. Then his face brightened up: "You know what, Miss Didina? Our tastes are suited to each other. Good-bye!…"That much for the first day.The next and the following days one after another added to the conviction that Mr. Guţă Gheorghiu had started conceiving, that the ideal woman, the oleander woman he had dreamt of, was no longer a deceitful dream. She was alive. She was Miss Didina. One morning, being wrapped up in thought, Mr. Guţă started asking himself the following questions - and supplying the answers himself - which all sounded like the dialogues at the Registrar's Office where he worked:"What's your age?""38 years old." "Previous marriage?""No.""Does Miss Didina Dobre fulfill the conditions you asked in order to be your lifemate ?""Yes, yes: she likes oleanders.""Then?" "I therefore consent…"It was precisely on Miss Didina's birthday. Guţă sent her through Costache visiting cards and a tub with an oleander as a souvenir. Didina received the present with a laugh:"How simple he is!" She had learnt that word at the boarding - school from a society girl who employed radical words...Marrying Guţă, Miss Didina set the whole suburb a-seeding:"Well, what can one do about it? Luck doesn't come to firewood or stone. Did you notice who was chosen to be pampered among Mr. Gheorghiu's flowers? Didina at the street-corner!" And right they were. Guţă, was the milk of human kindness. For two months , the girl did her best to pretend she shared his tastes. She looked after the flowers instead of Costache, whom she had dismissed, for reasons of economy, replacing him by a cook. She had bought a small watering can, and with the nimbleness of a bee, she beautifully passed from one oleander to another, refreshing their small courtyard at the first, shy sunbeams of the morning.Through a little hole in the curtains, Guţă stealthily peeped out, following Didina's movements. He gloated on her. But she was aware of nothing. One morning however, Guţă felt a shot through his heart. Didina had made a mere mocking pretence of watering the flowers, which she did reluctantly. Only three liters of water for a whole regiment of tubs; Lord, what derision!Nevertheless, he kept himself in check. He waited for her to return and when she did he asked her: "Didina, my little one, have you watered the oleanders, uncle?""Yes, yes!"And Didina was looking for something in the house, while gently humming "Sob-Waltz" - her weakness, a reminiscence from a ball.Guţă felt a sort of lump in his throat which he tried hard to prevent from choking him by humming and hawing. That's what always happened to him when he was angry."And so you say you watered them properly, chickabiddy ?""Yes, yeees!""I'm sorry to anger you, I just wanted to know..."And he watched her long locks undulating on the back of her morning dress like two young snakes. And he felt like drubbing her. Fortunately Didina saw nothing and went out of the room, still humming "Sob-Waltz." Guţă recovered himself. And he was delighted with his self-control; moreover he felt his judgment was clearer and it seemed to him he could investigate things with more sang-froid.There was just one question which still lingered unanswered in his head and Mr. Guţă Gheorghiu could never find its solution: "Why had the lady offered him reasons for divorce so soon after their marriage?"Within a week, they were in the divorce court.
by Ion A. Bassarabescu (1870-1952)
