Early next day, Master Dinu went to the workshop and called to Sandu.
He found it difficult, and he much regretted having to part with him, but there was nothing else to be done. He asked him how long he had been in his workshop, what money he had drawn, and made the calculation as to how much he had still to receive.
Sandu felt as if the house were falling about his ears—he could not keep him any longer? The blow was a heavy one.
“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.