another by the hand for all your life.” And this strong man who had not his equal, at these words well nigh gave way.
After this he said “I found thee, dear Staza, long have I had thee with me, and now Frank has claimed thee. What have we to do? He has a greater right to thee than I have. He is young and loves thee.”
At these words Staza threw herself on Bartos’ breast, and there sobbed out her great happiness, wept there also her thanks to him for being a father to her and her sorrow at leaving him.
“One thing more, oh! Bartos,” said Frank.
“What, pray?”
“You know that my parents dwell in the farm house and will dwell there with me for many a long year, let us hope; the pension house is therefore empty, will you not settle there and be our neighbour—mine and Staza’s?”
At these words Bartos again measured Frank from head to heels and said, “I pensioned off! No, dear boy. Here I am lord and master, and am little skilled in accepting pensions or returning thanks for them. It is possible that you would like to have me there. But we cannot tell, and I should never manage to pry into your eyes every day to see whether you still liked to have me there. Do you think I shall be low-spirited here alone. I have a large family, as yet I have never felt oppressed or
