clear, pure air the towers of the Piarist church and the many-domed gables of the castle were plainly visible.
The highways were like a threshing floor, and the rough pavement of the long public square was entirely dry. Warm sun-rays shone upon the newer houses, as well as those which dated from the times of the Brethern; the rays entered even into the arch-way constructed along the two sides of the long public square. A busy life reigned under those massive arches that warm afternoon, but is was the busiest among the youngsters, who, similarly to the little bugs, were lured out by the warmth of the new spring.
Laughter and noise made by these young throats did not disturb the town officer Koníček who, basking himself on the stone bench in front of an arch-pillar, fell into a peaceful sleep. He was an old lion and preferred rest to the chasing of game. As witnessed by the drum which hung on his shoulders and drum-sticks stuck in the yellow case on his belt, he was returning from somewhere in the suburbs.
Everybody knew his soft spot; wherever he could, he leaned against the wall or sat on a bench and fell into sweet dozing. It was said of him that he slept walking. His hat was drawn deep over his forehead; his head fell on his breast, and from under his gray, close-clipped mustache came hearty, healthy snoring.
These sounds did not disturb Miss Elis, who was sitting at the open window above Koníček. Miss Elis was, to speak without ceremony, an old maid, whose kind, light-blue eyes had seen the earth in that beautiful spring robe at least some fifty times.
She was knitting a stocking. She paid attention neither to the dark blue sky nor to the sunlight. She did not look out on the square, either, and yet she did not work so carefully and dexterously to-day as at other times. Her hands often lay in her lap, and her eyes turned into the room toward the door of the next room and then again on the clock with alabaster columns. This clock was standing on the dresser, and its brass ringlets, together with the yellow tin decorations, were shining like gold.
Everything in Miss Elis’ room was bright; there was not a particle of dust anywhere. Everything also was properly arranged and there was not a trace of disorder. Chair and sofa, covered with a white cloth, were old-fashioned, recalling the days of the wig and the queue. On the other hand, the round table, covered with a motley-colored table cloth, and the rest of the furniture, were much more modern, after the fashion of the last days of the Republic, and the times of the great Napoleon.
The small hand already had passed four, and was approaching five. Miss Elis laid down the stocking and the skein on the window-siill, went toward the middle of the room, and stopped near the door from whence came loud but incoherent talking. At least, having made up her mind, the small lady approached the door and knocked.
The conversation suddenly ceased and the door opened. “Why, Mr. Vavřena, what are you doing? It’s past four o’clock long ago. What will they say at the registrar’s?”
“You are right, Miss Elis,” replied a young man, his full, fresh face smiling pleasantly. “What a trouble I have with him! He became infatuated with his idea, and can’t stop talking.”
“What idea?”
“Why, all kinds of secret plots and revolutions; it is a wonder that he does not blow up Litomyšl.”
“But, Mr. Frýbort, such talking!”
“I’m coming, Miss Elis!” and behind Frýbort appeared his chum philosopher, Mr. Vavřena, a young man of tall, slender bearing and expressive countenance. He held his hat in hand.
“I wonder what bewitched you that you forgot your lesson. At other times you are so punctual.”
Vavřena smiled.
“Oh, I shall make it up again.”
“Hurry, quick!” called Frýbort. “Mis Lotty is so lovely to-day. I saw her at the window. That light dress and those pink ribbons were becoming her splendidly!”
“Frýbort, I don’t know what Márinka would say to you about your watching light dresses and pink ribbons.”
“Oh, Miss Elis won’t tell on me, will you?” and Frýbort, speaking in Hanák dialect, smiled pleasantly at Miss Elis.
Vavřena left the room.
Miss Elis, in whose home both Vavřena and Frýbort were boarding, sat down again on the chair at the window, and resumed her knitting. Frýbor still stood at the door of his room.
“Wasn’t Zelenka home in the afternoon?” he asked.
“No, he was not,” rejoined Miss Elis. “He is always at those lessons, the poor fellow! How much more must he suffer, before he finishes his studies! He begged me to cook some fruit porridge for him. He also has a plate of dried apples and dried pears in the kitchen. Where does that man get strength, anyway!”
“And then he works more than is necessary.”
“Studies seem to agree better with you than with him; but, Mr. Frýbort, I wanted to ask you for some time: have you noticed Mr. Špína?”
“No, I did not notice anything.”
“That’s peculiar; only notice him. Since some time ago he seems lost in thought and is so taciturn.”
“That is probably because the time is approaching when he must go to cloister.”
“Oh no, it is not that. He does not want to go there, I know, but it is something deeper. Believe me, that . . . that he has fallen in love.”
“Špína — ha! ha! — Špína fallen in love!” Frýbort could not stop laughing ,and that hearty
