brushed himself extra well to-day. Ana, too, was smart, smart as
always, but she had no time to sit as she had constantly to jump up
to help her mother. Every now and then she threw a glance at Sandu,
and a strange feeling of joy possessed her that he could see her,
that he looked at her.
Only the mistress was as usual, and when the child complained
constantly that his head ached she wanted the meal to finish
quickly. She laid a wet handkerchief on his forehead and put him to
bed. The child became quieter, and Master Dinu, after drinking the
wine that was left over, rose from the table--a signal that the meal
was finished. Then, according to his usual habit, he took up his hat,
inquired if anyone wanted any money, gave Iotza what he asked, and
went off into the town.
"Sandu," said the mistress, when the workmen had gone, "if you are
not going anywhere, come back in an hour when we have finished with
the dinner things and sit with Gheorghitza, for to-day is Sunday and
perhaps visitors will come to the house."
Ana looked at him; Sandu hardly understood the mistress's words,
and could not answer her.
"Speak, are you coming or not?"
"I will come." And he went out as though he had been pushed.
At three o'clock came the mistress's mother, a woman of about sixty
years of age, rosy in the face and well made. She was wearing a
dark coloured skirt, and on her head a kerchief of black silk which
reached nearly to her knees, and in her hand, like all old women,
she carried a yellow handkerchief.
She rarely came to see her daughter, partly because she knew her time
for going out in society was past, but especially because Mistress
Veta was not glad to see her on feast days; she would not have come
to-day, but she had not been for a long time and she was desirous of
seeing her grandchildren.
Inside the front room she rejoiced over the beauty and good manners
of her grand-daughter, who, with her mother, was removing the last
speck of dust, or putting back in its right place anything that had
been left about.
Ana sat down by her grandmother, and her grandmother stroked her head
and looked tenderly into her face. She never grew tired of saying:
"Such grandchildren, such dear grandchildren." But just when she was
feeling happy the door opened.
"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Naraschievici!" said Mistress Veta, jumping up to
receive them as though some royal party had arrived.
"Pray sit down."
Mr. and Mrs. Naraschievici accepted the invitation, while their
daughter, a pale, plain girl of over twenty years of age, did not
forget to kiss the mistress's hand.
"I kiss your hand, aunt," said Ana, too, while Mrs. Naraschievici in
her turn embraced her on the forehead, and could not help expressing
her wonder at how tall Ana had grown and how pretty she was.
Ana blushed and joined Miss Naraschievici, while the mistress's eyes
shone with pleasure.
"You must not tell her so; you must not turn her head," she said,
just for something to say, while her mother was asking herself the
question as to why on earth her grand-daughter had said that "Aunt."
It is true that neither Ana nor Mistress Veta was related to
the Naraschievici family; however, Mr. Naraschievici said it was
"aristocratic," and all he said was right in Mistress Veta's eyes.
"Is Master Dinu at home?"
"No. You know what he is--he cannot bear to stay at home."
As she said this, Mistress Veta approached her mother, who looked as
if she could have taken the whole Naraschievici family and put them
outside the door, so angry was she because they had spoilt the happy
hour she had hoped to pass with her grand-daughter.
"Mother," she whispered in her ear, "it would be kind if you would
go downstairs to Gheorghitza, who ought to be up now."
The old lady was at the door before she had finished speaking: with
her hand on the latch she looked furiously at her daughter and at
Mr. and Mrs. Naraschievici, choked back some words and went out.
She was going away, saying to herself that she would never again set
foot inside the house, when she remembered Gheorghitza. When the old
lady went in Sandu was telling him tales.
"Here is kind Granny, here is kind Granny," cried Gheorghitza gaily.
He got up quickly, put his arms round her neck and kissed her over
and over again.
The old woman forgot her distress as she held Gheorghitza in her
arms. He began to untie the handkerchief and feel in the pocket of
her gown.
"Look what Granny has brought for Gheorghitza," she said.
It was her habit to bring some toy for him.
Now that he had a plaything, Gheorghitza was no longer ill. His kind
Granny made him forget it. The old lady watched him for some time,
and then she looked at Sandu.
"How is the work getting on?"
"Well."
"And business is profitable?"
"Profitable."
As Sandu said this Mistress Veta came into the ante-room, took a
plateful of cakes out of a cupboard and went quickly away again.
During the noise she made the old lady looked intently towards
the window.
"She takes them upstairs, but she did not invite me," and her eyes
filled with tears. "That is how she esteems me," said the old lady,
steeped in bitterness. "It's a sad world. I have reached an old age
when my own daughter is ashamed of me. She sends me out of the house as
if I were a nobody. May God not punish her, for she has children. But
it hurts me to see her pay no attention to me just because of some
bankrupts, some wretches who have fled from Temishoara to avoid their
creditors. But I did not come to get something out of her. I did not
come like those bankrupts to get something to eat. Thank God I have
all I need at home, but that she should belittle me in such a way as
to make me ridiculous in their eyes--Lord, Lord, did I rear her for
this? Is it for this I watched over her?"
"Sandu," said the old lady, sighing heavily, "give her my thanks,
tell her how I appreciate the honour she has done me, and that all
my life I shall never forget that she received me as she should
receive her mother. But listen to me; tell her, too, she may wait a
long time before I cross her threshold again, and she need not send
to me when she wants anything. Let her go to the gentleman, to the
bankrupt Naraschievici."
And away went Mistress Veta's mother, so angry that she could not
see where she was walking, while Sandu sat with drooping head.
In about half an hour Ana came. She was disappointed to hear her
grandmother had gone, and wanted to know why.
Sandu did not like to tell her, and because his heart would not let
him lie he said to her in a low voice:
"Well, she went because she could not stay."
Ana sat on the edge of the bed, and sympathizing with her brother,
she asked him whether his head ached.
Gheorghitza had no time to answer; he shook his head and went on
playing.
"Sandu, can you stay with him? You see, I must go up again. Gheorghitza
dear, be good and play nicely."
Then she kissed him and went slowly away as though she were loth to go.
And with her went Sandu's heart and the joy which filled his soul
when he saw her standing by her brother and kissing him so tenderly.
Mistress Veta was beside herself with pleasure that evening. She did
not even ask when or why her mother had gone so suddenly. She told
Sandu that he was not to dare to tell her what the old lady had said,
but to go and get wood to make a fire to warm the supper. And once
again she went over in her mind all that Mr. and Mrs. Naraschievici
had said. She felt very flattered, and said she did not remember when
she had spent such a pleasant day.
There was a heavy frost and the Timish was frozen. The tanners were
obliged to have openings made in the ice to enable the rinsing of
the skins to take place.
Sandu, shod in big working boots, made his way through the thick mist
and came down to the Timish to rinse a set of skins. Behind him came
the apprentice with a barrow containing the block of wood with its
stand, the rinser and two hatchets for breaking the ice. They made the
opening in the ice and Sandu remained alone. He fixed one end of the
block on to a stake and arranged the stand firmly under the other,
opened out two skins, placed them one over the other, on the block,
and began to work.
Sandu was hardened and accustomed to the cold, but however fast he
worked his breath froze and his hands grew stiff. Seldom at first,
but then more and more frequently did he stamp his feet. He put
the rinser on the block, breathed into the palms of his hands, and
swinging his arms he beat under his left arm with his right hand,
and then under the right arm with his left hand, to make his blood
circulate, the while his eyes watered with the cold.
Round him was a frosty calm; the gurgling of the water as he turned
the skins made him realize all the more the severity of the winter. He
worked away at his task, but slowly, and with little result. It was
getting towards noon, and he had rinsed five skins when he heard a
crunching of the snow on the bank, and raised his head.
The rinser dropped from his hand. On the bank was Ana with a jug in
her hand, wishing him "Good luck."
Sandu did not know how to answer her.
"Come, see what I have brought you, a drop of warm wine, for Mother
is out, and you must be cold."
Sandu came up the bank; he could hardly hold the jug.
"Thank you," he said with his mouth, but his heart spoke from his eyes.
Ana looked down.
"Drink quickly," she said, so softly she could scarcely be heard,
"for I must not stay long."
Sandu drank the wine.
"Ana, Miss Ana----"
Ana drew back her hand, and looking at him in a way I cannot describe,
she said:
"Are you warmer now?"
Sandu's eyes were too eloquent, the peaceful isolation was too
tempting, the stillness of the atmosphere was too intense, their
hearts were too attuned for them not to understand each other.
She went up to him with an eager movement, and he put his arm about
her waist and clasped her to his heart.
They neither of them said a word, but to them both it seemed that no
words were needed.
"Sandu, I must go, I must really go, for Mother might come," and
gently she disengaged herself from his arms, took a few slow steps,
turned round, and then fled like a little kid towards the house.
While Sandu was watching her, Costa came along; he, too, was a
master-tanner.
"Ha, ha! Talpoane's hands live well. What a moment for me to arrive,"
murmured Costa in his beard, smiling as he thought of the story he
would be able to tell. "Sandu," he shouted, "I was going to see you,
but as you are at the rinsing I have come down to ask you whether
the hides which I have been waiting for these three days have come
from Pesta."
"No, they have not come."
"Not? Why the devil haven't they sent them? Have you much work?"
"A great deal."
"How many hides?"
Sandu looked at him.
"We have a lot."
"A lot. Yes, I know you have a lot, but how many?"
"I have not counted them."
"Have you got business at Hunedoar fair?"
"I believe so; the drying is difficult, though."
"You have got some heavy skins, haven't you?"
"Some heavy, some light; you know how it is with the work."
Costa bit his lips and would like to have given Sandu a cuff or two,
so angry was he that he would not tell him what he was longing to know.
"But, it's cold!"
"It's cold."
"Come, you ought not to feel it much when Talpoane's daughter brings
you drink."
The blood rushed to Sandu's face, and he did not know why he did not
strike Costa to the ground as he smiled at him.
"But what of it, haven't we all done the same kind of thing? Only
look out that nobody sees you and nobody hears you. That's all right,
I won't keep you from your work!"
Sandu could not see, everything was black before his eyes, he was
hot all over and a fire seemed to burn within him. He gnashed his
teeth and stretched the skin as though he would tear it, and rinsed
as though he had some rival to surpass.
At midday the apprentice came to call him to dinner. On the way he
remembered what had happened and would have liked to turn back. In
the ante-room he saw Ana, and his heart beat as though it were on
fire. Ana, too, was radiant, her eyes laughed with joy, and the dimples
in her cheeks were more tantalizing than ever. Sandu's heart was full
of delight; he forgot what Costa had said; he was only conscious of
Ana's voice.
After dinner the cold was not quite so cruel, the calm was not so
intense, and he did not feel alone; there seemed to be plenty of life
around him, but whenever he turned his head he could only see Ana. And
longings awoke in his heart, and many pleasant thoughts passed through
his mind, and they all gathered round Ana's form. His thoughts carried
him far, and he pictured himself with a workshop and a house of his
own, and Ana beside him making life sweet. They were so tempting and
so full of charm that Sandu smiled to himself as he strung together
tender, caressing words to say to Ana, for he felt she belonged to him,
and no one could disturb the peace of these happy days.
Night closed sadly in and Sandu had long ago finished his work,
but he did not want to move. He was loath to leave the pleasant,
quiet spot where he had pictured to himself the path in life that
was awaiting him. He gave a sigh of regret as he stepped along the
bank and walked towards the house of Mistress Veta.
The nearer it drew to the Christmas festival the busier became the
fairs, and the tanners raised the price of their goods because the
weather was moist, and the peasants were obliged to buy sandals
whether they wanted to or not.
Christmas Eve fell on a Tuesday, and, accordingly, the weekly fair
had never been better.
Although Mistress Veta had such a lot to do that she had hardly time
to turn round, she remained at the booth till ten o'clock, when she
returned home.
The little white, crown-shaped rolls were baked and divided up, some
for the house, some for the poor, and some for the guests who would
expect hospitality the day after Christmas Day. When everything was
finished and put ready, and Master Dinu arrived, they all went into
the front room. There they lit a fire that must not be allowed to
die out, that Christ, who was born on this night, might not feel the
cold, and there they quietly waited till their house was visited by
carol-singers and lads carrying "Stars" or "Magi." To make the joy
next day more complete, they lit the Christmas Tree, and out of a
cupboard Master Dinu took a little riding-horse for Gheorghitza, and
for Ana a work-frame and other things suitable for a big girl. The
parents were happy at the gratitude written on their children's faces.
Gradually the world seemed to wake up, the quiet in the town was
dispelled. As the stars rose in the sky, there appeared in every
street, girls carrying "Christmas Trees," boys with "Stars" or "Magi"
or "the Manger," and young men with "carols," and amidst this busy
movement, amidst this pleasant noise, amidst slow, sad songs or
beautiful carols, the whole town seemed enveloped in an atmosphere
of reverence; each one, forgetting the troubles of life, felt himself
drawing nearer to the glory of God.
While Master Dinu was listening to the carol-singers from his windows,
and taking the symbol of the Magi into his house, Sandu sat alone in
the workshop over the way. He had lit an end of candle, and was sitting
on a chair in front of the opening in the stove below the boiler.
At intervals a drop of liquid fell from the vats, and the sound of
its fall echoed long in the quiet workshop.
The noise from outside broke dully against the window and took
Sandu's thoughts back to other days. And all at once he began to
carol to himself:
"And as you journey thither
There comes wafted many a mile,
From where the Holy Infant lies,
The scent of fair flowers,
The glow of bright torches,
The smoke of the incense,
The song of the angels."
He sang softly, and the dead past of the years he had spent since
he left the home where he was born seemed to unroll itself before
him. And as he saw himself alone, and deprived of every kind of
pleasure, a tear crept into his eye, and with his head resting upon
his hand, he sat gazing into the fire. All the nine years that he
had spent Christmas among strangers, he had envied the joy of others,
and never once had he felt in his heart the peace of the season as he
used to in the days when he was at home. And who would think of him,
or who would give him any happiness at this holy festival?
The workshop door opened hastily, and the appearance of Ana scattered
his thoughts to the wind.
"Sandu, I have brought you something for Christmas." Sandu did not
hold out his hand for it. "How you look at me, Sandu! Why do you not
want what I bring you?"
So saying, Ana came quite close to him, and put what she had brought
into his hand.
"Ana," said Sandu, in a stifled voice, "may God look upon you as I
look at you."
His voice seemed to come from the depths of his soul, and Ana's look
grew troubled. The kindness and sorrow with which he spoke touched
her strangely, and resting her head upon his breast she murmured as
in a dream:
"Sandu, dear Sandu."
But she had to go, for she had stolen from the house when some boys,
carrying Magi, had arrived, and her mother would be looking for her.
Sandu remained behind to tell himself that never had God given him
a happier Christmas.
The day after Christmas, in the afternoon, his various god-children
came to Master Dinu's house: hospitality demands hospitality. They
brought with them rolls and other things. Mistress Veta spread food
upon the table, and whoever came took in exchange a roll from the
god-parents.
By the evening, Lena, Tziru's widow, alone remained.
Master Dinu was in a hurry to get away, and Ana was downstairs with
some friends.
The women remained by themselves, enjoying the wine and conversing. And
when two women sit gossiping, who escapes unscathed by their
tongues? One person is so and so, another person dresses so absurdly
that every one laughs at her, and so the idle talk runs on.
"Doesn't it make you laugh"--Mistress Veta takes up the word--"when
you see Costa's wife as pink as a girl? How can a woman of her age
paint herself?"
"Never mind her, my dear, there are others----"
"I don't seem to have heard of them."
Then a little later on:
"I don't know how it is but Costa is an ill-natured man and a regular
chatterbox."
"You say truly, it's the talk of the town."
"But he has become a little more careful, he's not as he was a while
ago. He has begun to shrug his shoulders only and keep his tongue
quiet."
"He pretends to, my dear, but you have not heard him--it's better
for me not to tell you, not to make you unhappy, especially on a
feast day."
"Of course, you must tell me," Mistress Veta raised her voice and
her eyes flashed.
"I would sooner you heard it from other lips."
"Now, Lena, either you tell me, or----"
Lena knew Mistress Veta too well not to tell her that Costa was
saying how he had seen Ana going down to the Timish with warm wine
for Sandu, and how she had stood in the cold for two hours talking
to him, and a great deal more besides.
Red was the wine, but Mistress Veta's face was redder still. She
might have had an apoplectic stroke.
"Ah! He said those words?"
Lena did not know how to calm her.
"My dear, really I did not know how much it would upset you or I
should never have told you. Why do you get so angry? Every one knows
he is a liar and a mischief-maker without his equal in the empire,
and who pays attention to all his tales, and all the world knows how
you have brought up Ana. What tanner's daughter can touch her? Your
Ana--come, leave it."
"I will not leave it," cried Mistress Veta, somewhat calmer. "I'll
show him. To whom did he say these words?"
"I don't know to whom he said them; I heard of it in Trifu's house."
"In Trifu's house! Trifu is his cousin. Don't listen, Lena; do you
believe his lies?"
"How could I believe him, my dear, how could I believe him? Neither
did Trifu believe him. He said he would blush to invent such lies."
"Lies, Lena, lies. But let him see me! My daughter----"
"Say no more about it, Veta. May God keep Ana well, and you see
her happy. Costa--but who's Costa? Everybody laughs when he opens
his mouth."
"You heard it in Trifu's house! Who knows in how many places he has
spit out his libels, for that man spits, Lena, he spits worse than
any cat; but I am not I if I don't pay him out."
Lena agreed with her, and sympathized with her and urged her not
to be so angry, for the whole town knew what Ana's behaviour always
was, and people stood still and looked after her when she passed by,
sweet and modest as a rosebud.
"Why let yourself be unhappy, my dear?" she said, getting up to go,
"when every one's heart swells when they see Ana, as if she were not
the pride of us all when we see her going about with gentlemen's
daughters. Ana is just herself, and there is no one like her, so
why give yourself bad moments because of the tittle-tattle of a man
like Costa?"
Mistress Veta accompanied Lena to the door, and came back asking
herself what was to be done.
Master Dinu came back just at the right moment.
Without much hesitation his wife told him everything with various
additions and improvements.
"Eh! And what of it?" he said. "Don't the people know us and our
daughter, and don't they know what Costa's words are worth? Only
Costa says it."
Mistress Veta looked furiously at him.
"What! The town is talking about your daughter, and you don't mind?"
"It isn't that I don't mind! Of course I mind, but what would you
have me do? Go and kill him? Don't be like this."
"Not be like this? I'd better be like you and not care when they
insult my daughter!"
"Come now, what am I to do?"
"What are you to do? Woe betide the house where the man is not a real
man! Find out, discover to whom he has said it, collect witnesses,
and see he never opens his mouth again."
"I will see about it."
"Don't see about it, find him."
Master Dinu knew that his wife must always have the last word, so
he said nothing; he would have been glad not to be at home, but he
could not go now. A few minutes later he said:
"Listen, Veta, all right, I will find witnesses, but supposing
it's true?"
"True?" screamed his wife, and looked as though she could have thrown
herself upon him and struck him. "True? Why doesn't God strangle the
word in your throat?" she snarled, and hurriedly left the room.
A few seconds later she returned with Ana.
"Ana, hear your father say that it is true you took warm wine to
Sandu."
The haste with which her mother had called her, and her father's
expression so overcame her, that she stood with drooping head, and
raising a corner of her apron began to cry.
"So this is where we have got to--get out of my sight that I may
never see you again."
Mistress Veta sank exhausted on to a chair, while Ana sobbed as if
her heart would break.
"Why all this to-do even if she did take wine to the poor man? What
is the great harm in that? She took him wine because he was cold, and
because I told her to go," said Master Dinu, going up to Ana. "Don't
cry any more," and he stroked her forehead.
Ana continued to sob, and clung more and more tightly to her
father. Master Dinu felt as if his heart would break.
"Go and kiss your mother's hand, it's nothing. Veta----"
"No, let her get out of my sight, let her go. Ana has done this to
me, my prudent daughter, my good daughter, my much-praised daughter,
her mother's joy--she has done this," and Mistress Veta shook her
head while everything seemed to turn black before her eyes.
Master Dinu did not know what to do. To put an end to it, he drew
Ana gently outside, and tried to quiet her sobs.
A little later he returned to the house. His wife was exhausted and
depressed, and sat gazing at the floor.
Suddenly she rose.
"Dinu, you must give Sandu notice to-day, do you hear? If you don't
go now and tell him never to show himself here again, you'll never
have any peace from me."
"How can I dismiss the man in the middle of the night? You must see
we cannot--and then, what harm has he done?"
Mistress Veta could have killed him with a look.
"You will give him notice, do you understand? Or I will turn him out."
"All right, Veta, we will give him notice, but what stories will
be told about us outside! How we dismiss workmen on feast days,
and turn them out of the house in the dead of night. You must be
patient. To-morrow I will give him all the money due to him, and tell
him to go in God's name."
"It's your business to deal with him; never let me see him again;
if they make any fuss I'll scratch his eyes out. He has got us talked
about, no other than he, do you hear? Let him get out of my workshop,
or there will be trouble."
Early next day, Master Dinu went to the workshop and called to Sandu.