the reasonings of common sense, and would change her opinion of him, if not altogether, at least considerably in his favour. Therefore he stopped in Prague, on his way back from Italy, to endeavour to see her, and to bring about a reconciliation between them. It was in the beginning of July. But of Jenny there was not a trace to be found. When he inquired privately of the proper authorities, all he was able to learn was that Jenny Kuc̓erová had left Prague at the end of May. Where she had gone to remained a mystery.
Under cover of some plausible excuse, he called at her aunt’s, Mrs. Knír̓ová’s; he even went to her native place to inquire of her relations; but they either did not know anything about her, or concealed the truth from him by her instructions. Jenny seemed for the present to have vanished from the earth.
Sinking more and more into melancholy, the baron as already on his way back to Labutín, when he met a forester from his estate at the railway station. Forester Chvojan was an old man already, and known for his ill will to the clergy in general. The baron spoke a few words to him unconcernedly, and, among other things, asked if there was any news at home. Chvojan twisted his long moustache self-complacently, and, winking his lynx’s eyes knowingly, gave the baron the following piquant piece of news:—
“Heavens in Záluz̓í has been blessed with an angel in waddling-clothes, of a few weeks old. They pretend to the people about that the baby-boy belongs to some relation of Naninka, the pious old spinster, who is so fond of snuff; but whoever believes that can swallow anything.” And he did not forget at the same time to add some ringing comments about priests in general.
