these feet and different voices approach the grave. But because they slept they heard nothing of it.
Loyka, the peasant, it must be understood, when the evening was already far advanced and no Frank appeared at home, fearing some mishap, went with Vena and a domestic in the direction of the cemetery to see if he could not meet with Frank somewhere or other. And when they failed to find him, they went as far as the gravedigger’s to make enquiries about him. ‘He was here until quite late this evening,’ said Bartos, whether he has departed I know not, but it is possible that he is lying in the grave.’
“In the grave?” enquired Loyka with surprise.
“In the grave,” replied Bartos with a peaceful face, and he led them to the grave. “Look how prettily they have fallen asleep together. If you choose awaken him, but I would not awaken him if I were you.”
They slept like two birdies, and knew nothing of what was going on around them.
“When he cannot sleep any longer with his grandfather, he spends the night in his grave,” said Vena, “do not awaken him Pantata.”
Loyka, however, was of a different opinion, and awoke Frank, and this caused Staza also to awake. The boy was drowsy, leapt to his feet, and looked about him. Over the burial ground streamed the white light of the moon, the crosses stretched forth
