glad we have the little one.” And with that he forgot himself, and in the joy of his heart squeezed Pepíc̓ek so heartily that he woke, and began to cry so lustily that the whole house rang.
Naninka ran to him. “Oh, that will never do, your reverence,” she said; “a little baby must be touched as tenderly as foam, not to melt under your hand. Come here to me, my little dove. Hush, now, there’s a good little man!”
Pepíc̓ek was a good little fellow, and soon grew quiet again.
“We must make a sucking—bag for him,” observed Heavens, seriously.
“If we only had stale rolls! Poor Miss Jenny! I cannot get her out of my head. Poor thing! We women are unhappy creatures; our hearts are our curse. Without love we fade like a flower without water; and love, again, drives us from roses to thorns!”
“My head is still going round like a millwheel,” observed Father Cvok. “Such news, and so suddenly! But there must have been some talk going on about it, under the rose. At least, Father Ledecký hinted something about Miss Jenny to-day during our conversation. Oh! only now the light breaks in on me. That was that made him look at me so oddly.”
“And what did he tell you?”
“He only asked, by the way, if I had heard anything about Miss Jenny; if she had written to me from Prague, and so on. He also spoke of her having visited me here in Záluz̓í pretty often. In short, he spoke as if I ought to know something particular about her; and only now I see that he was beating about the bush, as if he were
trying to draw something out of me. He also mentioned
