well that if it came out her whole existence would be ruined. Therefore, for the sake of Pepíc̓ek, she delayed writing, that Mrs. Opolská might not suspect her real circumstances. She allowed it was a hateful dissimulation, and whenever she thought of it, she felt a pain at her heart; but, alas! she could not help it, unless she was satisfied to let her stained past spoil and destroy the hope of, at least, a bearable future for herself and her child.
Another thing that delayed her letter was, that she eanted to send some money for Pepíc̓ek, and was not able to do so before.
As the last thing, she announced that she would come to Prague with Mrs. Opolská and the children towards the end of October, to spend the winter in town.
“Some of these days,” she concluded, “I shall either ask for a short holiday, or Miss Naninka will have to come with my darling to Prague; but I shall settle all the particulars later by letter. I am even now counting the days until I shall be able to see Pepíc̓ek and to clasp him to my hungry heart.”
The reading was done. The never-failing apron of Miss Naninka was again on the way to her eyes. The “hungry heart” had taken effect, and she winked as she had just been grating horse-radish.
A photograph was also enclosed in the letter, and father Cvok looked at it very minutely. The picture was very well done, and had been taken lately. Jenny looked still prettier in it than when she had been at Labutín. A tender, touching melancholy rested on the delicate oval face, such as we sometimes see in Raphael’s pictures, and her pensive eyes seemed to tell the story of her unhappiness.
