tened attentively, as one listens to old, long familiar speeches, which, however, one likes to hear again,—the commissary’s wife continued speaking, choosing full, pregnant words, now elaborating the story with jests, and now winking.
The subject was more universally discussed, and Frau von Janik could add many a beautiful detail.
Then Frau von Fischmeister arose: “Did you notice yesterday how persistently Jiří clung to Anda, the tax collector’s daughter? Anda is a clever girl, but it would be well to give the tax collector’s wife a hint. Such a bird as he ought to be kept away from her.”
“If one only knew what the councilloress thinks of it,” said the postmaster’s wife, returning to the old theme.
The lady of the house allowed the stocking to fall into her lap: “We know her foolish affection for her nephew. In the end she will give in, and will be glad that Mr. Jiří has his fair magnet at home.”
