When he stood by the wicket-gate, he waited and everything for which he waited could emerge from the grave-digger’s humble abode in the person of Staza.
Staza tripped forth just as on that day long past, but how different. It was not a child who hopped even over the graves like a small bird, or a butterfly. It was a pensive, blooming maiden, a rose, which blossoms on a single bush, there to glisten and then fade. She walked with her head bowed and seemed as though she would fain water those graves with her tears. And she was infinitely charming.
Frank had opened the wicket-gate a hundred times, and to-day it seemed as though he knew not how he could ever enter by it. When he thought that Staza might observe him, he retreated and only peeped furtively through the bars. And he saw Staza, who was the selfsame Staza whom he had led about the whole neighbourhood, and who yet was not the same. At least it seemed to him as though he saw her to-day for the first time, and as though he had to speak to her for the first time.
Staza seated herself on her mother’s grave, and her eyes rested on the white-iron figure of the Christus on the ruddy cross. After a moment or two she whispered rather than sang, “Odpocinte v pokoji verne dusicky” [“Rest in peace ye faithful spirits”].
But she did not finish her song. Something seemed to snap it asunder half-way, the second half remained unuttered.
And here Frank felt constrained: just as if he ought to finish in tears what Staza had left incomplete in her song, just as if he wronged her by his silence.
He posted himself before the wicket-gate in order that she might see him.
“Oh! Staza,” he said.
Staza rose from the ground, and half joyously, half pensively approached the wicket-gate.
“I welcome thee, Frank”, said she.
“Oh! Staza, will you open it for me”, said Frank.
Here Staza said archly, “Have you so soon forgotten how to open it?”
“I have not forgotten,” responded Frank, “but I have no longer the right unless you allow me.”
“You have it open!” said Staza.
“Oh! Staza, I am come to ask your hand in marriage”, said Frank, after a short silence.
“You have it here!” said Staza, and gave her hand to him.
