without honor. He would forever turn his back upon their society. And he went home. On his way he hired a coach. He seized upon a journey into the country as a saving anchor. . . .
Pale, and breathing heavily, Lucy rose from ber seat. Whole sentences were on her lips, but she only said: “Do not go. I shall go myself!” She fell back into the chair with the whole weight of her body. She did not weep, nor speak. Her eyes were fixed somewhere in space, as if she wished to reach something that was escaping her. The old lady went up to her. Jiří spoke more sternly: “Nonsense! We will go!”
Reader, how futile are our intentions! I had planned to sketch with epic calm a few pictures from the life of common, every-day people,—and behold, I must confess that my hand is trembling, my eyes are somehow moist, and the darkness of vain, barren
