The baroness ordered the coachman to drive in the direction of Suchdol, but to go round the village. Some way beyond Suchdol she told him to turn to Záluz̓í. Mr. Ferdinand laughed in his sleeve; now he knew already how matters stood.
There was a loud knock at the priest’s gate. Cvok himself staggered out to open it. The gracious patroness entered his dwelling as proudly as a beauty enters a ball-room, and at the same time with the majestic coldness of a queen. Mr. Ferdinand remained at the gate as a guard of honour, but also with the intention of keeping his ears open.
Father Cvok stammered out a polite welcome to his gracious patroness, and offered her a seat. She did not accept it; cast a glance about the room, looked askant at the priest, and then began in a curt, cold manner, like a speaking automaton.
“You, sir priest, keep here in your house, as I am informed, a strange child, whose parentage is unknown and mysterious. I must request you to let me read its baptismal certificate.”
Father Cvok grew red and pale alternately. What with astonishment, embarrassment, and anxiety, he did not know what to say or how to begin.
“Show me the baptismal certificate,” repeated the baroness, still more emphatically. Heavens scratched his left arm; his self-possession and judgment were coming back to him.
“The child was not baptized here in Záluz̓í,” he answered.
“I know that,” the baroness went on dryly; ”but you cannot have undertaken the care of the child without some baptismal document.”
