Roumanian Stories Part 32

"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 n.o.body. May G.o.d 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 Temish.o.a.ra 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 G.o.d 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, wis.h.i.+ng 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."