in times gone by. To-day, just as though the word had been passed round, they were all here, in order to be witnesses of Loyka’s banishment from the farm house. Did they come to soothe or to pity him?
And by something more than accident the musicians had also gathered here in order to celebrate the memory of the day. But you may be sure that they did not place themselves on the side of the noisy, laughing youth, but beside the two silent old folk and endeavoured to open their hearts by strains of melody and cheerful songs. They posted themselves beside that time worn furniture, beside which sat the time worn Loyka and his time worn wife. Here they played and sang, as if conscious that they did so for the last time, as if to-day they would fain pay off a debt long due, and would show their gratitude once more.
And thus the personality of old Loyka was, as it were, completed. On one side stood Vena, in whom, as it were, were embodied his bitter moods. On the other side stood the musicians in whom, as it were, were embodied all the gentleness and gaiety of his mind. Each formed, as it were, a single wing, and on these wings Loyka felt himself for the moment resigned to rest.
“It comforts me, lads, to think that you do not quite forget old Loyka, it does indeed comfort me,” said Loyka to express to them his gratitude. “Truly,
