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."