"I told him so," said Iotza, interfering in the conversation; and as he opened the door to take out a bundle of bark, he added: "But he knows everything, and doesn't need advice from anyone."
"Of course," scolded the mistress, "you did not have time to turn the skins; you stood talking, and took no heed of your work. What was Ana looking for here the day before yesterday?"
"Ana--Ana came to tell me to put away the sandals in the box."
"And you could not do that much without being told? You are the kind of man one must tell everything to, otherwise there would not be much use in your work!"
For some time Sandu stayed alone in the workshop; he felt as though he could not move. His mistress's words rang continually in his ears, and he felt numbed by their harshness.
The apprentice had come to call him to dinner, but he had not gone. It seemed to him they had all heard what the mistress said, and would have stared at him.
Iotza and the other man returned from dinner and found him in the workshop, his hand resting on the vat.
"Why, when you had turned the skins, didn't you come to dinner, or have you been talking to Ana?" sneered Iotza.
Sandu heard his voice, but he did not take in what he said. He looked at him with great sad eyes, and not knowing what to do went outside.
Sandu rose at daybreak the following day, but he could not have told if he had slept, or whether his thoughts had tormented him all night. He left the workshop without having done anything, he went to the pits, and took the skins out with the pincers to try whether they were ready to dress, then he returned to the workshop and was still quite unsettled.
He went to dinner with the other men; he followed them; had anyone asked him whither he was going he could not have told them. They were alone, and all quite silent, and just this silence was painful to Sandu. He would have liked to hear conversation, a great deal of talking. They were about to rise from the table when the mistress arrived. Everything seemed to turn black before Sandu's eyes.
After exchanging a few words, Iotza said:
"Mistress, you better let me turn the skins in those two vats----"
"Yes, you turn them, just like Sandu did."
The blood rushed to his head as Sandu dropped his knife and spilt a piece of lard upon the table.
"Do you think I shall pity you because you don't eat? You have not turned them well, and that's all. I didn't begin to keep a workshop to-day or yesterday."
"Mistress----"
"Oh, it's always mistress, mistress! Do your work properly, and don't let your thoughts go wandering far afield, then no one need find fault with you."
The workmen rose. Sandu got up too; his feet could hardly carry him, and his head was heavy.
For two whole days Sandu did not know whether he was himself or some one else. He could not take his food, sleep only came to him at rare intervals. And during this time he often thought of going to Master Dinu and giving him notice. Several times he had left the workshop determined to tell him, but once Iotza had called him to come and help with something, and then he had thought it over and had left it to a more suitable time when he should find Dinu alone, for in front of the mistress he could have said nothing to him.
And who knows whether he would have said anything, if Master Dinu had not come through the workshop. He asked him how the skins were getting on, and then, as he never cared to prolong a conversation, he prepared to go, after telling him that one lot of work must be pressed forward, and the other done in such and such a way.
Sandu had followed him but the words died upon his lips.
"What is it, Sandu? Do you want to tell me something?"
"Well, Master Dinu, without any offence to you, I want to give up the work."
Master Dinu looked long at him. He was prepared for anything except this, and just now when the fairs were in full swing.
"You want to give me notice? But why?"
"Because the mistress is always abusing me, and she is not satisfied with the way I work, and Iotza makes fun of me, and I can bear it no longer: it is too hard. I work with all my might, and I want to do good work, and I don't want you to keep me just out of charity as people say you do."
"Come, don't do that; you know the mistress, that is her way. As for Iotza--listen, I'll stop his mouth. And, then, where would you find another place? Take my advice and let me talk to the mistress."
Master Dinu went away, and Sandu returned to the workshop. Before he had spoken with Master Dinu he had not seemed to realize whether there was work to finish, and now he did not know whether he had finished it or not.
Master Dinu went into the house. He told his wife that Sandu had wished to leave, and bade her leave him in peace from now on, seeing that he was an industrious workman and an honest man.
"Thank you," replied his wife; "let me tell you that I take as much interest in the workshop as you do, and if I am not to be allowed to speak to the workmen, or give them orders about the work----"
"I do not say you are not to give them orders, but you are not to make fun of them. After all, they are human beings."
"So I am in the wrong! If I tell them how they are to do something I am making fun of the men; impertinent man, to accuse me of joking. And why didn't you send him away?"
"Send him away? Why? Just now when we are greatly in need of men? I rack my brains to try and get another hand for the work, and don't know where to find one, while you are longing to get rid of Sandu, and in the long run, for no reason. You must not be like this."
They were still talking when Nitza Burencea came to ask if he was going to the fair at Devi.
That evening, after supper, the mistress stopped Sandu as she wanted to send him somewhere.
"Sandu, why did you want to leave your work? Are you not satisfied with our food?"
"Quite satisfied."
"Or don't we give you enough whisky in the evening?"
"I don't drink whisky."
"Don't drink it? But, you silly man, why didn't you tell me? And those other two said nothing about it--you don't think it rains whisky with us, do you? They have drawn your share all these days. But I'll wipe their mouths for them. Why did you not tell me long ago?"
"You never asked me."
"Well, go where I tell you; and, listen, if I send you it is because I have not got so much confidence in the others; do just what I have told you."
"I will do so, mistress," replied Sandu, with a much lighter heart.
When he reached the street he told himself the mistress was not so bad after all.
An hour later, when he returned, only Ana was downstairs.
After saying good evening, seeing that Ana was by herself, he prepared to go out again.
Ana, who saw he was about to open the door, asked him:
"What do you want, Sandu? Whom are you looking for?"