“Listen, Veta, all right, I will find witnesses, but supposing it’s true?”
“True?” screamed his wife, and looked as though she could have thrown herself upon him and struck him. “True? Why doesn’t God strangle the word in your throat?” she snarled, and hurriedly left the room.
A few seconds later she returned with Ana.
“Ana, hear your father say that it is true you took warm wine to Sandu.”
The haste with which her mother had called her, and her father’s expression so overcame her, that she stood with drooping head, and raising a corner of her apron began to cry.
“So this is where we have got to—get out of my sight that I may never see you again.”
Mistress Veta sank exhausted on to a chair, while Ana sobbed as if her heart would break.
“Why all this to-do even if she did take wine to the poor man? What is the great harm in that? She took him wine because he was cold, and because I told her to go,” said Master Dinu, going up to Ana. “Don’t cry any more,” and he stroked her forehead.
Ana continued to sob, and clung more and more tightly to her father. Master Dinu felt as if his heart would break.
“Go and kiss your mother’s hand, it’s nothing. Veta——”