the table; next to Vojtech came the little boy and on the two chairs sat Pani Horska and her little daughter and there was nothing for it but that Lidunka should sit behind the table and next to Vojtech.
It was a long time since Vojtech had sat beside Lidunka and he had never sat beside her as he did to-day. He could touch her hand with his fingers and perhaps it was a mere accident that their hands did touch, but it was not a mere accident that they remained with fingers interlaced, that they pressed one another.
If any one had told Vojtech that he forgot his place, he would have laughed him to scorn at that moment. Surely now and then he might cease to be the family instructor. Vojtech felt that he was somewhat bound up with it and that he had to claim his right to it for Lidunka put herself in harmony with him by a thousand trifling actions.
The mother rose from her chair and went to the window to see how the storm looked and whether there was any prospect of its abatement. Vojtech and Lidunka also looked at the storm without, however, rising from their places. But as they must watch it with one pair of eyes they pressed their foreheads together and looked at it together holding their breath. Then Vojtech whispered in Lidunka’s ear, “Would to Heaven the storm would last a week.”
Lidunka affected not to hear very well and pressed her ear against his lips. Vojtech did not repeat his observation, perhaps at that moment he did not know what he had said. When Pani Horska turned from the window, Vojtech and Lidunka ceased to look at the storm together. Their eyes showed traces of confusion: it was as though they had suddenly been withdrawn from a measureless abyss and did not know what to rest their gaze on and as though that abyss still filled all the chambers of the soul.
In the hostelry quiet reigned and outside you might hear how the heavy drops fell with a rush to the ground, how the water distilling from the rocky wall streamed in rivulets and how proudly the torrent flaunted beneath the window, and drank in the rich tribute of the rain.
“How ever shall we get home?” observed Pani Horska. But her words fell flat: the children did not care about the matter and the two grown-up members of the party found themselves very happy where they were.
The shower ceased, the storm receded, and the thunder died away like a distant discharge of musketry. A drizzling rain fell
