“They are coming,” shouted Bára, so that it could be heard over the whole place. The priest went out in front of the gate and the sexton after him. Bára would like to have flown directly to them, but she became shy suddenly and only ran about from place to place. When the carriage neared the parsonage a sort of fear filled her, her heart pounded, her throat contracted and heat and cold surged over her.
The carriage stopped at the gate. First, Miss Pepinka rolled out of it and behind her leaped forth the slender figure of a rosy-cheeked girl upon whom the priest, the sexton and the assembled crowd stood gazing. If she had not thrown her arms around the priest’s neck and called him “Uncle” they would not have believed it was Elška.
Bára never took her eyes from her. When Elška emerged from her uncle’s embrace she stepped at once to Bára, took her two hands in her own and, looking up into her eyes, said in her sweet voice, “Bára, Bára—I’ve been so lonely for you! How have you been? Is Lišaj still alive?” Then Bára burst into tears and cried as if her heart would break, unable to answer a word. After a while she sighed gratefully, "Well, it’s good that you are here at last, dear Elška!”
The priest repeated after Bára: “Well, it’s good that you are here. We’ve been so lonely.”
“They wanted to detain me there a day longer,” said Miss Pepinka, piling all sorts of things out of the carriage into the arms of the sexton, Bára and the
