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.