low-spirited among them. Who knows? Perhaps, I shall be needed here. The next time some father flies from his son’s harsh bounty and knoweth not whither to turn, he will come to Bartos. And what would he do if he did not find me here?”
Frank was silent. It was evident he deemed that Bartos judged him harshly.
“Do not be angry, boy,” said Bartos. “Possibly I shall come and visit you from time to time, to see how you treat your father. Do your best to show yourself at once a good hospodar and a good son—of that I must be first assured. Promise nothing. Even your brother promised and would have deprived your father of reason. I do not trust you little sons, because your fathers make themselves dependent upon you. But promise me one thing, invite me to your wedding.”
All was so unanswerably true which Bartos had said, that Frank did not utter a word in reply.
“Do not be anxious about me,” he added. “Now Staza must be the dearest object of your care.” On this he kissed Staza and kissed Frank, and so the betrothal ended.
What they wished to say to one another, and what they had said to one another how simple it was! How entirely the outcome of souls already united, and yet, before they had reached the goal of speech they had to undergo all the pleasing
