to the tales, for every third night precisely from eleven to twelve it “haunted,” according to the testimony of reputable people. It shook its fist at many a person and a death’s head looked into numerous windows. The people were so terrified that only the boldest men ventured outside their own thresholds at night. They began repenting their sins and gave generously for prayers for souls in purgatory. In fact fear of death drove them all to do penance. To be sure, the priest preached against superstition and false beliefs, but it was all useless.
The steward, though he would not own to it, was so frightened that he visibly paled, and if it had not been for his great greed to possess a beautiful bride and her rich dowry, the parsonage would not have seen him again. He wanted, therefore, to have certainty assured as soon as possible. For that reason he had come to a definite understanding with Miss Pepinka and the priest and decided to consult even Elška so that the wedding could be celebrated immediately after harvesttime.
Miss Pepinka announced to Elška the steward’s impending visit the next day and urged her to be sensible and listen to reason. Elška wept and begged her aunt not to force her to marry such a scarecrow, but Pepinka became very angry with her. Even her uncle, although he did not rebuke her as did his sister, nevertheless reproved her for ingratitude and unreasonableness. No letter came from Prague—and not a
