“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.
“My dear, really I did not know how much it would upset you or I should never have told you. Why do you get so angry? Every one knows he is a liar and a mischief-maker without his equal in the empire, and who pays attention to all his tales, and all the world knows how you have brought up Ana. What tanner’s daughter can touch her? Your Ana—come, leave it.”
“I will not leave it,” cried Mistress Veta, somewhat calmer. “I’ll show him. To whom did he say these words?”
“I don’t know to whom he said them; I heard of it in Trifu’s house.”