wards the delegates of the Student Legion entered the room. He was joyfully surprised with their request, and willingly promised to comply with it, if pater rector would permit. The rector, under such circumstances, could not prevent it, and had to admit the priest to the philosophical faculty as a docent extraordinary.
A short time after that the hall of the philosophical college was entirely filled. The professors, students, guardsmen, and citizens, all came to hear the first lecture; no one had so many auditors but Pater German, sometimes, when he lectured on special periods of history. The philosophers, as though they were not the same men who caused that infernal uproar in the room of the professor of theology last year, stood there like lambs, their eyes fastened on the young priest who mounted the cathedra.
In a sonorous voice he began the introduction. With ardent, eloquent words he reviewed Bohemia’s past, the nation’s glory and its fall; he spoke of the labor of the great leaders, such as Jungmann, and the living patriots, Šafařík and Palacký; he spoke of the present hopeful times and of the prospect for a better future.
Silence pervaded the whole room so that the buzzing of a fly could have been heard; the eyes of the young were fired with enthusiasm. The glance of Pater Anton fell on the white-haired Pater German, who rested his outstretched arms on a cane. On his expressive, noble face was reflected a depth of strong emotion, and from his eyes joyful tears were trickling down his wrinkled face. It was the joy of Simeon, to whom it was given to see the dawn of a new day, which he so long had awaited.
A stormy applause thundered through the hall when Pater Anton ended. From that day on philosophy had a new course, and no course was so well attended.
That day, when philosophy was so inspired and rejoicing, a terrible misfortune befell Mr. Roubínek, who, by the way, was not present at the lecture. Mrs. Roubínek was frightened when her husband returned from the office and entered the parlor. For a long time she pressed him to tell what happened, why he was so disturbed. He, however, sank into his easy chair, and did not even take off his “Abraham,” which, considering his usual carefulness, meant much; he did not put on his “oberst,” but stared with icy face at king Herod. Finally, when Mrs. Roubínek was getting angry, he spoke:
“The guard — —”
“What about the guard? What guard?”
“Castle guard — —.”
“Oh, so — — I do not understand!”
“There will be a castle guard — —.”
“Aber, Roubínek, rede doch vernuenftig,—(But Roubínek, speak sensibly,) there is a guard in the city — —.”
“Count George wants—also — — a guard—.”
Now Mrs. Roubínek was surprised.
“Du must auch—you must also?”
Roubínek merely nodded his head.
“And the recorder also?”
“Also—everybody.”
The world was turning the wrong side up. When even his gracious lordship joined thoy innovators and rebels, who could abide? But the lord commands, and Roubínek must obey. He must go to the castle arsenal, there they will give him some old cutlass, put on his shoulder an old blunderbuss, stand him in line, and then he must jump all over the castle yard “one, two, one, two,” and “left, right,”—good Lord, like those idiotic students—he, the registrar! And they will come and look at him, the children, the grown-ups, and everybody, and if he makes mistake they will mock him “hay, straw,” and he, with a green cap on his head, will dance around like a fool! Where then will esteem go, what will become of respect, authority?
CHAPTER XI.
The patriotic movement made rapid progress and spread far and wide. Even the maidens and married women, who were formerly to a great degree indifferent in such matters, were carried away by the torrent. The good seed, sown by Dobromila Rettig, bore now an abundant fruit. The spirit of those times was like a rain which revived and refreshed the plant of patriotism. Mis Elis and Lenka especially were rejoicing. While the guardsmen and the students were in training, stood guard, kept night watches, the women were collecting money among themselves for a flag, which was to wave over the heads of the courageous student legionaries.
The solicitors did not meet with much success at Roubínek’s. Mrs. Roubínek, who would have liked best to show them the door, did not go very deep into her pocket. But in those constitutional times it would not do to slight the matter altogether. When the workers were leaving, they met the ward of Roubínek’s on the stairs, who evidently was waiting there for them. Blushing she took out of her apron pocket something wrapped in paper, and gave it to the workers.
“Please, accept this little mite!”
Had Vavřena seen Lenka, blushing, humble, bashful he would have fervently kissed the little hand which sacrificed for a patriotic cause all her savings, all her possessions.
May came again, but without the “majales.” There was no time for a celebration, for the minds of all were occupied with more serious affairs. Messages from Prague continued to pour into the city in a steady stream, sometimes filling the people with fear, but mostly comforting and carrying the expectation of better times.
The efforts of the women of Litomyšl were successful. The money was collected, and the flag made. Lenka rejoiced like a little child when Brož delivered her a printed handbill, on which she read:
