Roubínek’s wife and daughter had already retired, and the house became perfectly still. Holding the little book in his bony right hand, the registrar read and read, evidently with much difficulty. He was not familiar with Bohemian books, and more than that this one was in “rhymes”, as the registrar used to say.
The fascinating verses of Mácha affected him very little. His official face did not relax, and after a while the reading tired him. He stopped and then, desiring to fulfill his duty and to examine the book thoroughly, resumed reading, now half audibly. Nevertheless, in a short time his lips ceased moving, though his eyes still scanned the verses. Then he turned a leaf, again whispered, and finally stopped. He looked fixedly at one spot, his eyes blinked, then closed; the tassel of his night-cap shook, and finally his weary head dropped to his breast and he fell asleep.
He had read two full parts, and from the remaining third he omitted only the last verses:
“T’was late evening, the first of May,
an eve of May, t’was time of Love,
to which invited the call of dove ...”
Roubínek! Roubínek!
***
The registrar evidently had gotten out of bed with the wrong foot first. He was morose. The reason probably was that he had had such ugly dreams. Jail, fetters, policemen, much bigger and more imposing than Kmoníček, gallows, skeletons—all these mingled in his nightmare, it was a wonder he did not melt in his perspiration through terror and fright.
And all this on account of that book, those “rhymes”!
Such infidel books his ward read, and such things his son’s instructor gave her! Sullenly he left for the office.
That very forenoon Mrs. Roubínek again met Mrs. Roller, who related that she had visited the rector, and that she had found out everything.
Before noon passed, there was a persistent rumor everywhere that the philosophers from Miss Elis’ rooms were to receive the worst punishment, and that at least two of them were to be expelled.
Mrs. Roubínek told this news to her husband after dinner, when he found some relief from his bad humor in his pipe.
Miss Lotty, sitting in the easy chair by the window, looked maliciously at Lenka, who was folding the tablecloth. She saw how her rival was startled and grew white, and how she looked up at her aunt frightened.
“He will come to some queer end! Still so young, and already full of innovations and revolts against his superiors! He deserves a summary punishment,” Roubínek spoke unfeelingly, and calmly whiffed a ring of smoke.
Lenka, who was as if lifeless before this, now raised her head and left the room. She was deeply wounded by this harshness and narrowness.
“Won’t she be frantic now!” remarked Lotty, when her cousin left.
“She will be still more stubborn!—Na, es wird sich zeigen!” (Well, it will show itself!)
The landlady, Márinka’s mother, had left Miss Elis, not knowing what worry she had caused her. She told Miss Elis what she had heard about the students, especially about Vavřena and Frýbort.
Miss Elis was sitting in deep gloom, awaiting the arrival of one of the philosophers. At last there was a sound of steps outside, and the fun-loving Frýbort quickly entered.
“Oh, Mr. Frýbort ,at last you have come! My heart is melting for fear. Tell me what is going on. Where are you coming from?”
“From the trial.”
“And is it true that—you—that must leave?”
The philosopher laughed. “Then the whole philosophical department would leave. All for each!”
“And what if that happens?”
Frýbort laughed again.
“And you still laugh? Think of the shame!”
“I committed no crime. We were defending an old custom.
“But your studies will be over.”
“What I need to know in order to become a good citizen, I know already, and a bookworm I’ll never be anyway!”
“And Márinka?”
“Márinka? Why, she loves me, and will marry me whether I am a Hanák farmer or a lawyer.”
“Well, it may be all-right with you, but how about Mr. Vavřena? What would he do?”
“Oh, they will think it over twice before they expel and spoil the future of such an excellent student! Besides, Pater German will drop a good word for him, and in the end: ex moribus primam, cetera eminenter!”
The old lady, having had philosophers for so many years, had learned those Latin grades on the certificates, and understood well what Frýbort had said.
“May the good Lord grant it! And is the trial over?”
“Yes, the sentence probably will be announced tomorrow.
“Where is Mr. Vavřena?”
“He went to give the lesson.” *** Vavřena, going up the steps toward the registrar’s room, looked around eagerly, hoping to see Lenka. But the hall-way was empty, and the door of Lenka’s room was shut. He had not seen her for two days! And how he longed for her! He knew that it was not by chance, but that her aunt was keeping her away. It was the same to day as yesterday: neither mother nor daughter paid any attention to the instructor, as they had done at other times.
Only it was unusual that the registrar was already at home. Vavřena gave the lesson. At
