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 at an end. He did not wait until some one began to talk about Kubista. No, he began himself; in every way and on every occasion looking out for some pretext to abuse his late friend. He said that Kubista had bribed the officials, and by this had put the climax to his dishonesty, and that all his whole life, he had been thinking of nothing but how to cause him trouble and expense.
This stubborn immobility had something morbid, not to say spasmodic, in it, which was the more obvious to all because it was quite inconsistent with grandfather’s age and his grey hairs.
Grandmother more than once wished to take upon herself the rôle of peacemaker. And then she reproached grandfather, telling him that he was greatly in fault to give himself to be so blinded in his old age by wrath, and that it became him now least of all when both he and Kubista stood with one foot in the grave.
But this only exasperated his anger to the highest degree. He upbraided her, telling her that she had no affection for him; that she stood up for a man whose affection for himself was shown by his own lame foot; that she depraved Uncle John by her fondness and
