The foreman filled his plate and took the money that George gave him. “Of course, you want a piece of meat, too?” he said.
It was a great temptation to the poor man, but he remembered Tertschka’s advice, and only said:
“No, I do not care for meat.”
“Oh, you are a niggard! You look starved; you ought to be glad to get something decent to eat.”
“He has the fever,” said Tertschka; “the fat meat might hurt him;” for she felt that George’s willpower needed support to withstand the other man’s gruff importunity.
“Hold your tongue!” he shouted. “How do you know what is good or bad for him! Don’t you interfere; this is none of your business!” And turning to George, he asked again: “Well, do you want some meat or not?”
The words sounded like a command, not to refuse the tempting dish, but the man, shy as he was, took all the courage he could summon, and answered: “She is right; I ought not to eat any meat.”
“Well, then, don’t!” the other hissed, throwing the knife aside. “I’m not going to beg you to take it!” As George remained standing, he asked: “What else do you want?”
“My change,” the other stammered.
“Oh, yes, yes!” the foreman shouted. “Do you think I am going to keep your miserable pennies?” He threw him some copper coins and turned away scornfully. The money scattered in every direction about the room. George, with one hand occupied in holding the dish with food in it, had some trouble in picking up his change with the other. When finally he sat down in the corner to eat, his meagre fare had grown quite cold. He noticed that the foreman was pouring gin from a large green bottle into a small glass, then filling it again for the next man until nearly all had had their turn. George consoled himself with the thought of the treat in the evening, as Tertschka had advised. The girl too had received her dinner, meagre as it was, and now, at her stepfather’s command, began to wash and scrub the cooking utensils. The workmen had already left the house and were seeking the shade outside, to stretch their tired bodies and have a short nap. The foreman now began to make preparations for his own meal; he took a small pan from the stove and put it on the table, with plate, knife, and fork; to these were added a bottle of wine and a glass. Then he sat down lazily, lifted a nice, fat chicken from the pan, and began to eat. All at once he noticed George, who was still sitting in the corner, with the empty dish between his knees, considering how he might manage to help Tertschka with her work, for secret fear of the brutal man before him made him hesitate. “What are you sitting there for, staring at me?” he heard him shout. “Leave the room as quick as you can! I don’t want any spies here, to watch every mouthful I eat!”