Bára was a head taller than he, and when there was a fight, Josífek always hid behind her skirts, for Bára always courageously took his part against the boys for whom he alone was no match. For that Josífek loved her very dearly, brought her dried apples and every Saturday a white wafer-cake. One Sunday when Bára was still quite small he brought her home with him, intending to show her a little altar he had there and how well he could act the part of a priest. They went along hand in hand with Lišaj lagging on behind.
The doors of all the peasant homes closed with a latch and at night were bolted. At the parsonage the iron-cased oak doors were always locked and whoever wished to enter had to ring. At the sexton’s there was also a bell, just as at the parsonage, and often the village youths, when passing, would open the door a little in order to hear the bell ring and the sexton’s wife scold. When she had had her fill of railing at them they yelled, “Vixen, vixen!” at her.
When Bára with Josífek entered the door and the bell sounded, the sexton’s wife ran out into the passageway. The end of her long nose was pinched up in a pair of spectacles and she cried out in a snufiling voice, “Who is this you’re bringing with you?” Josífek stood as if scalded, dropped his eyes and was silent. Bára also looked down and said nothing. But behind the sexton’s wife came running the tom-cat and, catching sight of Lišaj, began to bristle up its back, sputter and
