“You’re surprised, aren’t you, Matýsek?” she finally addressed him, but her thoughts fairly tore her heart.
“You had hardly gone when the mistress became so well suddenly that she got up. She would not let herself be detained, but set out at once on a pilgrimage. She said she had already talked over with you how you’d arrange things here in case you did not find her at home.”
Barka had died a few hours after Matýsek’s departure. She had felt to a minute the time she was to go and happily she left this world before he returned, just as she had so fervently prayed God might come to pass. She herself had made all arrangements for her funeral, had laid aside the money for it, discussed its details, and prepared for them all. She pleaded with each one in God’s name not to divulge to Matýsek that she would never again return home. She hoped that he would gradually get accustomed to the idea of her remaining so long on the pilgrimage.
He,—to get accustomed to being without her!
The tenant softly led Matýsek to the table, though he made no resistance. She brought him something to eat and cared for him just as she had solemnly promised Barka for her own soul’s salvation that she would do! Matýsek did not respond to her words. Leaving the food untouched, he sat quietly, motionless, with eyes staring at the bed as if there were not a drop of blood in him.
No coercion could make him go to bed. All night he
