betrayed by you, and I will not allow myself to be kept by you. I will have nothing to do with your money. Keep your Judas’ wages! We have done with each her for ever. Rest assured I shall never fall a burden on you!”
The baron turned away. He never knew how he got out of the room or the house. He wandered about the streets for some time, then he set out to look for a notary; but at the office door of one he paused. The aristocrat and the man began once more to wrestle within him. The aristocrat won the day. The baron did not enter the notary’s office. He took a cab and drove to the public garden of Ovenec, and drove about in the spring rain and sharp wind until his head had cooled down a little.
Twice again, before his mother and sister left Prague for Labutín, he went to see Jenny; but she, acting consistently with her firm resolve, did not receive him. He then tried to again access to her by writing; his letters were returned unopened. Vexed with himself, with Jenny, and with the whole world, he made up his mind at length to leave Prague, and returned to Labutín with his mother and sister, and a new companion of the latter, at the end of March.
When the cowslips began to blossom in the meadows, and the swallows came back from the South, his journey to Italy was decided on, and he set out shortly before his son was brought in such a romantic fashion to the priest’s house in Záluz̓í.
