Sandu went up to the vat feeling as though he had been struck on the head. The solution was yellow, the skins were yellow and creased as usual, and he could not understand what fault the mistress had to find.
“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.