mission I shall stay here with you; it is so pleasant here—!”
“I am concerned about Fritz, Mr. Vavřena.”
“I put him in charge of a dependable student.”
“But what if aunt should really be angry with you?”
“If she discharged you,” sighed Miss Elis.
At these words Lenka and the young man loked at each other; the same thought flashed through their minds and frightened them both: then they would not see each other daily.
But Vavřena regained his composure and shook his head. “That will not happen.”
In that moment the shrubbery nearby rustled.
“Again! The hawk is circling near us!” he remarked, and all looked in that direction. Close by, a short, elderly woman appeared. She was neither thin nor fat, her withered face was remarkable mostly for the keen, piercing eyes, with which she quickly penetrated and inspected the situation. On her left hand was hung her in dispensable bag for skein, knitting needles, and stocking.
She looked a moment on the group under the tree, and smiled peculiarly.
“Oh, oh, my dear sir, is the quadrille over?” she began in German. “That is why we were in such a hurry? Oh—Miss Elis—good day!”
Measuring them all with her penetrating glance, she greeted them ironically, and strutted on without waiting for an answer.
Vavřena rose in anger, but Miss Elis caught him by the hand, and Lenka, who had cast down her eye before looked at the indignant youth.
“She deserves a sharp cut from me, that old gossip! She thinks she is still the mayor’s wife, and that she can boss and order people about as she did in her husband’s time!”
“But you know her, Mr. Vavřena; she will revenge herself on you,” Miss Elis spoke soothingly.
“Of course, I know her! She goes all around and picks up gossip. And you know her also, that Czecho-German. You told me how much evil she did against the late Mrs. Rettig.”
“But Miss Lenka here.” interrupted Miss Elis.
“Oh, yes, she also visits Mrs. Roubínek,” added the student more gently. It occurred to him the good girl would suffer again.
“She does come and I know her by sight. But let her come and tell. I can bear it,” Lenka smiled. “But I don’t know how about you!” The glance which she turned on Vavřena told the rest. “But now I must go.”
“We shall accompany you.” Miss Elis arose.
Vavřena, turning by chance, looked toward the old tree. Presently he exclaimed:
“I thought a while ago that if a strong wind or a storm came, it could very easily knock the nest down.”
“Look, Miss Lenka, the bird is out!”
“We shall wait and I will tell you after a few days whatever occurs on this beautiful spot.”
“Oh, then you will have such a lot of trouble with me! That “Bridge” which you loaned me. I can not cross very well alone. I do not under stand many things in it. It is hard to be philosopher.”
“I shall gladly help you with it. But to-day I brought you—.”
Vavřena took out of his breast pocket a small, thin book.
“Look it through, I shall bring Fritz in the meantime”.
The girl glanced curiously at the first page:
“T’was late evening—first of May—
an eve of May—t’was time of love—”
read the first lines.
CHAPTER VI.
Nedošin grove resounded with music, singing. Most of the people thronged round the dance-hall and then in the lower part around the restaurant. But all paths, even the most distant ones, were crowded, mostly by young people. In a quiet nook deep in the grove Špína walked slowly, as is meet for a philosopher, completely lost in thought. He wore a black frock, the one inherited from his deceased uncle, which he had cleaned so diligently and prepared for today’s celebration; a quite respectable high hat rested on his philosophical head. The young man fought with his indecision and bashfulness. A while ago he saw Márinka, beautiful and radiant in the dance, and the fires of his love flared up.
He desired the joy of dancing with her, but because he was so uncertain in dancing he hesitated until suddenly she disappeared from the hall and he sought her in vain. Now, looking for her, he was resolved to dance with her no matter what happened! He was imagining how he would approach her, how he would ask her for a little dance; he went himself, tried himself in a bow—then suddenly he straightened up, as if an electric spark ran through his body.
Whispers were heard behind the thicket. He listened.
“I won the bouquet, like the one on the stairs, did I not?”
“Here is your bouquet—.”
“And here—”
He heard no more; but he saw, himself unseen, how Frýbort bent over Márinka and kissed her. And she did not resist, she did not cry for help!
The happy couple with whispers and kissing passed on. Špína stood there thunderstruck, and intently looked on the spot where that flatterer so daringly had kissed the girl. Recovering from his shock, he slowly retreated his steps, his head bent lower, looking gloomier than otherwise would be proper for a philosopher.
(To be continued.)
