upright. He didn't show himself to anybody, but we had peace instead. . . ."
"What are you asking for your eggs, Prouzova?"
"I'm getting two thousand each at present."
"They say they're asking three in Trutnov."
"And I tell you," declared old Blahous vehemently, "it was bound to come. People were cross with each other even then. Why, your husband that's dead now, Prouzova, God rest his soul, was a spiritualist or medium or something in those days. And one time I said to him just in fun, 'I say, Prouza, you might call back that evil spirit that's just escaped from me.' And he lost his temper, and from that day to the day of his death he never spoke a word to me again. Yet he was my neighbour, mind you, aunt. And look at Tony Vlcek. He always swore by those foxfates that you fertilize with, and if anyone didn't believe in them, he'd keep on going for him like mad. And my son, the Professor, tells me it's the same wherever you go. If anyone sets his mind on anything, he must have everybody else believe in it. And he won't let anyone alone. That's how it's all come about."
"Yes, yes," said Aunt Prouzova, yawning. "What's the use of it all?"
"Ah, yes," sighed Mrs. Blahous.
"That's the way things are in this world," added Mrs. Prouzova.
