It must be confessed, however, that their passion manifested itself in a somewhat changed form. What before flowed on in calm delight like a peaceful streamlet, now dashed along like the same streamlet after rain. Heretofore they kissed like turtle-doves; now they wept their fill, now they stifled kisses in sobs, and soothed their sobs with kisses. And all the time they protested that their passion was eternal, with hearts so sincere, so overflowing, that it never occurred to them that it could be doubted. Uncle John exhorted Betuska to constancy, and Betuska in fond despair protested that she would cease to breathe on the day when uncle should turn away from her. Here they came to the conviction that they were promised man and wife, that they were eternally predestined to make each other happy, and on this they built all their future plans.
When evening came and clover and corn-fields were moist with dew, there fell and mingled with the dew, certainly more than one tear from the blue eyes of Betuska. Then she said, poor thing, that it seemed to her that matters must take a bad turn, for she could not realize how she could figure as the dutiful happy daughter in a family where her own father was detested. Only the genuine love and affection which Uncle John felt for her could have succeeded in wholly quieting her, at least long enough to give her breathing-time in her anguish.
Certainly the poultry noticed more than once, that Betuska did not show them the same predilection as formerly. She spread their chicken’s food, it is true, but she did not talk to them: she remained pensive, and if her eyes had not been bedewed with tears, the chickens could not have in the least conjectured why she was thinking of anything except themselves.
The chickens were also from this time most troublesome, and judgment fell upon them. They hopped on to her, fed themselves in her lap, and lodged mutual complaints against one another, till Betuska fairly drove them from her. The cocks had a perfect torment with them.
But at our house, at grandfather’s, it seemed as though contentment was completely banished to some foreign land; it scarcely appeared there once a month, seldomer than the toyman, who stopped to ask whether we wished to buy aught of his wares. Grandfather remained obdurate, and at last no one dared to mention the name of Kubista. Moreover, it ended at last in Kubista winning, to grandfather’s great grief, one side of the disputed boundary. Then every hope of reconciliation was
