had to tell her what should be prepared for dinner. Every moment the sunt asked: “What do you say, Lucy?”
Lucy lived her new life with a vim. In that atmosphere she breathed freely and softly. If at times she thought of the olden days, she felt as though she had a horrible dream from a long bygone past. Indeed, it was hard to identify her with that “Lucy” of the ill-famed house.
There was one thing which annoyed her: Jiří. She saw him but rarely, a moment in the morning, at dinner, and sometimes in the evening. She never felt at ease in his presence. The more she knew him, the more she saw his emptiness. She disliked his wit, which he ostensibly employed to sparkle with; in his remarks there was a breath of that perfume which she had scented in her former impure life. She was always in a rage over the inconsiderate tones in which he addressed his aunt. She would gladly have thrown herself upon him, would
