A slight tremor of happiness ran through Lenka as she heard the muffled notes of music. She remembered that it was not a dream, but a truth, a reality, and that Vavřena had actually whispered something to her in the hall way yesterday.
The music grew in volume, came nearer, until it thundered by the castle. In the meantime the sun rose and its golden light spread through the room.
At that time the registrar Roubínek, still in his night cap, was putting on the “oberst”, a many-colored, flower-patterned morning gown, inherited from his military uncle. He had just stepped to the window when the band, dressed in the uniform of the city sharpshooters, stopped before the manorial house to serenade. Behind him appeared Miss Lotty in snow-white negligee, while Lenka, completely dressed, lively and gay as a swallow, was hustling about the house.
Not many overslept that beautiful, May morning. Whoever did not get up and go out to enjoy it, stepped at least to the window to look at the luminous sky, or to listen to the sharpshooters’ band, as it marched through the town. The music now increased and thundered, then grew fainter ,until it again resounded in full strength from some other quarter.
Only Špína slept as if he were dead. Miss Elis was not a little amazed at his late homecoming.
Vavřena left the house early in the morning; soon after him Zelenka followed, carrying a book under his arm. When the time for breakfast came, Miss Elis noiselessly opened the door of the student’s room to see whether Mr. Frýbort was sleeping yet. But he was up and fully dressed, pacing the room. In his hand he held a little book, from which he was diligently studying. Miracle of miracles! What made him get up so early and study?
When all had left, Miss Elis, according to her custom, stepped into the student’s room to put things in order. On the very edge of one of them lay a small book, which she recognized instantly. It was the same one from which Frýbort was studying that morning. What a magical book was it that it enticed for so long a philosopher who ordinarily was not too fond of study? Miss Elis opened the book where the book-mark was placed and read:
“Tony,—quit your testy nagging,
stop that noise and angry bragging!”
cried the miller in a fit;
“as if the mill went to thunder,
and I wasn’t of you fonder,
when I hug my mug a bit!”
Oh, this is the philosophy! A humorous poem! Of course, what else would that jester care for but frizzles and fun? What book is it? Miss Elis turned to the title. It was the one which Vavřena had read aloud at Roubínek’s. When she was about to lay the book aside, her eyes caught the written lines on the inner side of the cover. She was startled. She read them once, twice, then she steped to the window, bent over the handwriting and examined it minutely. Emotion was visible on her wilted face. For a while she stood meditating over the script, and then went quickly to her own room, where she took her prayer book out of the cabinet.
From the prayer book she drew an already yellow album sheet with a gilded edge. On this sheet, a white-trunked birch tree was painted in watercolor; its long, soft branches were touching a tombstone, finished in Roman style. Both the tree and the monument, profusely covered with ivy, stood on a grassy bank of a lake, the outer horizon of which was bounded by a dark grove. The sun was just setting behind this grove.
On the other side of the sheet this was written in Latin script:
“Behold the low grave, covered with the fresh grass;
Oh, that low grave contains much, even every thing!
Give me, dear maiden, thy hand!—
A great tear moistens thy cheek!”
Miss Elis did not read any further. The handwriting on the sheet and in the Almanac was the same. The sheet fell from her hand; she gazed again on the inscription in the book, signed by “Myslimír”. But her eyes filled with tears and she turned and looked on the picture of the young priest, above whose head she had arranged a crescent of artificial flowers. Her small, withered hands involuntarily were clasped in prayer. ***
After eleven, Frýbort rushed in, and immediately hurried into his room. Miss Elis accosted him, however, and inquired from whom had he procured that small book, the Almanac. He told her it belonged to Vavřena.
When Vavřena soon afterwards returned home, he was considerably surprised with the question of Miss Elis. “Tell me, please, it means much to me.” Her voice, and those kind, light blue eyes implored him. He told her that Lenka lent it to him.
“Oh, I have heard of that young girl, and have seen her a few times. She seldom goes out, however, and I, an old person, hardly ever.”
Vavřena’s amazement grew.
“She is good, isn’t she, Mr. Vavřena?—But the poor girl surely does not sleep on roses there!”
“Would you want to speak with her, Miss Elis?”
“Oh, would that be possible?” Her eyes sparkled.
“If you want, even to-day.”
