“The binding is worthy of the book,” said Cvok to himself; “only about that Doubek she ought not to have written; it makes me feel as if a spider was sitting on a nice picture. There is again a new care and anxiety for me. But there is no end of them, as soon as one begins to meddle with women and their affairs. One might as well hope to look through the clouds as expect to see into their hearts.”
At that moment there was a knock at the gate. Miss Naninka went to open it. A servant from the castle brought a note from Baron Mundy, announcing that his mother had just expired. A fresh but not quite unexpected attack of apoplexy had ended her life. The baron begged Father Cvok to come to Labutín that day as he wished to consult him about various matters. The priest sent word he would do what the baron wished, and the servant went away.
“What fresh news is this, again?” asked Naninka full of curiosity.
“Indeed, there is no end to all the news to-day, seems,” Cvok answered. “The old baroness is with the Lord.”
“May God give her rest and peace!” said Naninka piously; adding, “which is more than she gave anybody as long as she lived.
“If he wants to take Pepíc̓ek away,” Naninka continued, “tell him plainly, reverend sir, that we cannot and will not give the child up.”
“I shall tell him so. Brush my best coat for me.”
Half an hour later Heavens was on the way to Labutín stepping out to-day like a schoolboy going home for the holidays.
