“One thing, at least, was fulfilled for my dear mother,” she sobbed, trying to smile at the same time. “She always used to tell me, ‘I can bequeath nothing to you, but may God grant that you may inherit one trait from me. I don’t know how to be angry and I can always find the bright side of everything I meet—let it be what it will.’”
Matýsek’s eyes were wet also. When he could not see her laugh without smiling himself, it is not to be wondered at that he could not see her cry without weeping with her! I have already said that in those two beings there was but one soul.
“There’s nothing on this earth I wish for,” sobbed Barka, “but one thing and that is, that I might some day go to Vambeřice. It is there my mother offered me to the Holy Virgin and there she prayed that I might inherit her good nature.”
“Some day you’ll get your wish,” Matýsek now in turn comforted Barka. “And perhaps much more, besides,” he added, and he was glad be thought of it as a means of bringing her out of her tears.
“Do you think I’ll some day be able to have a green jacket with a sulphur-yellow border?” sighed Barka, wiping her eyes with her work-calloused hands. “I must say I’d dearly love to have something pretty in which to go to Communion.”
“And wouldn’t you like to have a goat of your own, and a little cottage, too?” Matýsek inquired of her searchingly.
