"You have twenty-seven florins to come to you," said Master Dinu, and he did not seem to have the courage to look Sandu in the face. "Here are thirty, so that you do not lose your daily pay up to the beginning of next week. May God give you good fortune, you are a good man, and an honest, but I--I can no longer keep you. I am sorry, but I cannot help it. God be with you." And so saying, Master Dinu went away. Lost in thought Sandu stood gazing in front of him, seeing nothing. After a while he sighed heavily, picked up his money, and with a heart that seemed turned to ice he went off to collect all he had, poor man, in the way of clothes and linen, before he took the road. He collected all his possessions, but he could not make up his mind to take leave of the men with whom he had worked so long. Even Iotza was sorry, for Sandu had been kind, and never spoken a rude word to him. "I am sorry to leave you," said Sandu, and he felt as if his heart was breaking. "God be with you," replied they, and holding out their hands they accompanied him outside. Iotza went a little way with him. "Sandu, listen; I cannot bear not to tell you, but I know the mistress and you, and I know you want to go and say good-bye to her. Don't go, listen to me: it was not the master, it was she who said you were to be dismissed. Don't go, it is better not to go." Sandu made no reply. They went a few steps farther together and parted. The nearer he drew to Master Dinu's house, the more he longed to enter. He felt as though some one were urging him to go in. When he was quite near the door Master Dinu came out into the street. When he saw Sandu he stopped. "You are going?" "I am going, master, but I wanted to take leave of the mistress." "As the mistress is not at home let me tell her." Sandu bent his head. "Good luck to you, master." "May God be with you!" With slow and heavy step Sandu took the road to the market-place. At the corner he stopped. He turned his head and looked back along the street towards Master Dinu's house. He had crossed the square and was on the bridge when he met Nitza Burencea. "What's up, Sandu, have you left? Where are you going?" Sandu, like a person awakened out of a trance, with his eyes fastened dreamily upon the distant horizon, answered in a troubled voice: "I go out into the world!" THE BIRD OF ILL OMEN By I. AL. BRATESCU-VOINESHTI Conu Costache had one of the pleasantest faces in the town. Men of the same age as himself said he was nearly seventy years old; but a life free from care, a comfortable fortune, a wife as loving as a sister, two children who were getting on well, and, above all, his own kindly nature, had kept him so healthy, quick of movement and clear of mind, that one would not have given him fifty years.