almost involuntarily that Loyka ought not to lower himself with such a man.
This provoked Vena. “Not lower himself! If no one had picked you out of the mire, you would never have passed for so much. Only do not imagine that I do not see through you. I know you by heart, carry it off how you will. Look you! you have got your daughter on to a farm just as if a servant had made his daughter a queen, and now to-day my lord has a hundred tastes to sit on the throne himself also. Not lower oneself, indeed!” and similar things said Vena, though now Kmoch no longer heard them. He again departed to the young folk where they looked on the world with a different pair of eyes.
It seemed as though only to-day the new mistress celebrated her entry into the farmhouse. As it fell out, so it fell out. Hogsheads of beer were rolled into the court-yard; rosolek was produced, the servants were invited to it, drank, whistled, laughed, and sang, so that even people from the village collected about the court-yard, placed themselves in the gateway, and some even posted themselves in the court-yard, just as on the day when the news of the death of Frank’s grandfather lured them hither, and they had talked to one another about the life of the deceased.
They came just as if to-day there was another corpse at the farmstead, and it was old Loyka who was being buried in the pension house; perhaps he was not much unlike, not much better off than a corpse.
To-day it seemed as though the farmstead of the Loykas had regained its old appearance. For a good year or more the neighbours had disaccustomed themselves to come to the farm as they used to come in times gone by. To-day, just as though the word had been passed round, they were all here, in order to be witnesses of Loyka’s banishment from the farmhouse. Did they come to soothe or to pity him?
And by something more than accident the musicians had also gathered here in order to celebrate the memory of the day. But you may be sure that they did not place themselves on the side of the noisy, laughing youth, but beside the two silent old folk, and endeavoured to open their hearts by strains of melody and cheerful songs. They posted themselves beside that time-worn furniture, beside which sat the time-worn Loyka and his time-worn wife. Here they played and sang, as if conscious that they did so for the last time, as if to-day they would fain pay off a debt long due, and would show their gratitude once more.
