her by the people of the village, and for the first time she felt the weight of it all and for the first time the thought came to her, “Oh, mother, would that I could be lying there beside you!” One thought gave birth to another, vision succeeded vision. In spirit she embraced the beautiful Elška, and on the forest path her imagination portrayed as by magic the figure of a tall, broad-shouldered huntsman, with a face expressing earnestness, energy and strength.
But finally she turned away from the window, shook her head silently and, covering her face with her hands, sank with a deep sigh to the ground, weeping and praying. Her deep sorrow, allayed somewhat, she rose from the ground, intending to lie down on the funeral bier, when suddenly near the window a dog barked and a deep voice asked, “Bára, are you sleeping?” It was Jacob and Lišaj.
“I’m not sleeping, father, but I soon shall be. Why did you come? I’m not afraid.”
“All right then, girl, sleep. I will sleep out here it’s a warm night.” And her father lay down beneath the window, with Lišaj beside him.
They slept well until morning.
In the morning when the first streaks of dawn began to show, a man dressed in huntsman’s costume came through the forest. Jacob often used to see him going through the forest or the valley.
“What are you doing here, Jacob?” the huntsman asked him as he drew near.
