her to her home which she had long wished to visit.
It was a most pleasant afternoon in the light parlor, where everything was daintily arranged and shining so brightly.
The maiden stood in the middle of the room, looking at the picture of the young priest—her uncle. Both Lenka and Miss Elis gazed with emotion on that old portraiture of a face so loved and dear. Then Miss Elis led her guest to the student room and showed her where Vavřena lived, where he had his table, and where he had studied. Now it was empty and quiet.
One week succeeded another, letters came and went; Lenka visited Miss Elis and Márinka a few times more. When Mrs. Roubínek finally learned of it, and scolding forbade these visits, it was too late; for the autumn had come.
As the fruit ripened, the grass paled, the flowers withered, and the birds were preparing for their long journey, the long desired guests flocked in. From all parts of Bohemia and Moravia the wagons again arrived, piled high with student trunks and many colored featherbeds, and a new, busy life again arose in the town. The students and philosophers were back.
Everything went as formerly. Miss Elis and Márinka had no little joy, when Frýbort, and soon after him Vavřena, came. Zelenka also took his quarters with Miss Elis again, and immediately resumed his diligent studies. He gave lessons as before, lived frugally, and often ate for supper a small slice of dry bread and fruit porridge. Of Špína even the birds did not chirp.
Brož again taught the registrar’s Fritz and anew took upon himself the office of a postilion d’amour, for, since the philosophers had arrived, Mrs. Roubínek guarded Lenka with greater vigilance. There was no other means left to the lovers, than to tell each other in writing what they were denied to express orally.
Frýbort was happy. He was near his Márinka, saw her and spoke with her daily, and above that, not even the landlady made any remonstrances against his suit.
The fall passed, the ground hardened, and from the clouded, gray sky the first snow fell. Frýbort had now almost as many cares as in spring, before the celebration of the “majales”.
Already before Christmas people were talking and looking with joyful expectation forward to the philosophical ball, which was considered the most famous in town. Thus even this year there was much impatient expectation and the members of the committees, among whom Frýbort was the first and the cleverest, endeavored to make the event excel all others in pomp and splendor, as if they had a presentiment that this would be the last affair of the ancient philosophy.
Lottynka Roubínek was getting ready, preparing early and carefully. “You must be the queen, keine andere!” “Nobody else.” Mrs. Roubínek would say when they worked on the dress. Lenka, of course, had to do the greater part.
She had to work on the dress diligently, without being able to console herself with the thought that she also would see the ball, for which Lottynka was so impatient. She did not have the slightest hope of being permitted to attend. She did not care to go, she told herself, but how could she remain calm? To be near Vavřena for a few hours, to speak with him! Then a miracle happened! A week before the ball, her aunt informed her that if she wished to go, she should make ready. Mrs. Roubínek did not do this on the word of her husband, but rather because she heard from many quarters that the rumor of her being severe, even cruel, was being circulated through the town.
Of course, Lenka did not have a dress of such an expensive material as Lotty, but her skillful hand could make much out of little, and what she lacked in jewelry was supplied by her young, expressive face, lustrous eye, rich hair, and good figure.
The evening of the long expected day came. It was freezing cold outside, the stars sparkled. The registrar Roubínek, scrupulously clean, correctly dressed, paced the parlor, waiting for the women who were still dressing.
He wore the coat “Klapálek” this evening, a black frock which fitted him the best; it bore the name of its maker. A clear sound of bells jingled outside, and a sleigh stopped in front of the house. The registrar stepped to the door of the ladies’ room and knocked.
“Make haste, the sleigh is here already!”
“Aber, Roubínek, they did not shoot yet.”
Just then the mighty boom of a mortar gun was heard, immediately followed by another shot. The ball was formally opened. Lotty who had just completed her toilet stood before the mirror and viewed herself from all angles. The mother looked with delight and admiration on the handsome girl in the rich, stylish dress.
“Nein, you must be the queen, Lotty! Wenn eine Dame schoen sein soll, muss sie schoen gewachsen sein, (In order that a lady be beautiful, she must be well grown), and you are, Lotty!” Again she looked, again inspected.—“Wenn eine Dame schoen sein soll, muss sie dunkle Augen haben (In order that a lady be beatiful, she must have dark eyes), and you have them! That ribbon yet, Lotty, so—Wenn eine Dame schoen sein soll—muss sie dunkles Haar haben, (In order that a lady be beautiful, she must have dark hair), and you have it. Aber, Roubínek!” she cried peevishly, when the impatient husband again knocked on the door.—“Wie ich sage, you must be the queen.”
Through the clear, winter evening the mortar shots boomed in honor of the philosophical ball.
