have no right to command him. I will not give up the child either to him or to any one else!”
Mr. Ferdinand made no attempt to go; that crafty old fox knew well that the priest was right. His eyes wandered undecidedly from his mistress to Father Cvok, he evidently awaited fresh orders.
But they were never given by the baroness, for she felt a faintness coming over her—the very same faintness which had tried her yesterday in the business-room after Ledecký had left her, and when the dreadful pre-sentiment darted through her mind that Mundy might be the father of the foundling at Záluz̓í. To-day the fit was much heavier, and her limbs tingled much more. She started, then uttered a penetrating scream, and would have fallen on the floor had not Ferdinand caught her. She was completely unconscious, and looked like a corpse.
She was brought to the parlour and laid upon the priest’s bed, where they tried to bring her to; but it was only with difficulty, and very slowly, that she came to herself, and even then she was so weak that the two men did not know what to do. After a while the priest remembered that he had some restorative drops in the house, and went quickly to fetch them. She took them from Ferdinand’s hand, and began to revive immediately, and her consciousness became clearer. It was to be seen in her eyes that her strong mind and will were getting the better of her bodily weakness. With Ferdinand’s help she raised herself up on the bed; her breathing became freer, but she did not speak as yet. Father Cvok stood behind her head, lest it might disturb her to see him before her. After about a quarter of an hour she broke the dreadful silence, and expressed
