there were no unfavourable reports about him. All agreed in saying that not only under his mother’s eye, but at all times, his conduct and moral behaviour were quite unexceptionable. They even went further, and declared that in point of morals, if compared with other independent young nobles, Baron Mundy might be looked upon as a white raven.
True, his whole life was not spread out like a map for inspection; still, servants and underlings very seldom fail to find out any speck or mote that can cast the least shadow on their future master’s character. But not ever the tiny shadow of a mote did Jenny hear cast upon the baron’s relations with the fair sex.
All this increased her respect for the young man, but she pitied him at the same time for his dependent position with his mother. That he was, in fact, seldom absent from her thoughts, especially when she found herself alone, was perhaps as natural as that flowers appear in May.
Jenny had no intercourse beyond the castle, except with the families of such persons as were employed on the estate. Of the married ladies amongst them, the wife of the castle physician had, from the very first interested her the most. She was only a few years older than herself, was fairly well educated, and had simple charming manners. She could talk pleasantly without gossiping like the other ladies—a thing Jenny disliked in them particularly. The doctor himself did not talk much, but when he happened to be in the humour, his conversation was not without a racy wit.
At the doctor’s Jenny also became acquainted with the priest of Záluz̓í, or as he was nicknamed, “Heavens!” from his so frequently using this exclamation. She
