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.