“Well, did you catch the poultry?” asked the attorney.
“Yes, I did.”
“And what was the result?”
“This!” Prochazka brushed away the dry yellow hair from his forehead, and showed a black bruise and several good sized bumps.
“A fight?”
“And what a fight! She came over with her hired man and poultry girl. She called me robber, thief, scoundrel. She snatched the chickens from my possession by force and when I rushed after her she picked up one of those loose stakes and hit me on the head. I picked up the other stake and we would undoubtedly have broken them over each other’s heads if the neighbors hadn’t come between us.”
“Well, we’ll teach her some manners. We will prefer a court charge against her tomorrow for an offense against the security of honor. You will go personally to the county court to attend the trial. I will give you complete instructions as to your procedure. I would go with you but I have some things I simply can’t put off.”
After that interview Prochazka did not appear in the office for so long a time that it seemed strange to all of us. A week passed by, two, three, and the office missed the bulky figure of the sturdy countryman.
In the meantime the long anticipated end came to pass: the suit over the apple tree was ended by a decision in favor of Matthew Prochazka on every point at issue.
When, after a considerable length of time, the successful litigant again stepped into the office, the attorney triumphantly waved the decree before his eyes.
“We’ve won, friend, won, friend, we’ve won!”
But to the attorney’s great amazement, Prochazka’s eyes glistened only for an instant and then immediately the expression of embarrassment which he had worn on entering again overspread his face.
“You don’t seem pleased? What has happened to you? Did you lose the case at the county court for insult to your honor?”
“No!”
“Well, what then? Just read this splendid decision. Mrs. Vrchcabova must have turned every color of the rainbow when she read it. Just look at the huge costs and damages which she will have to pay.”
“It’s too late now,” stammered Prochazka.
“Late? Why—late?” asked the lawyer in astonishment.
Because we’re about half each other’s already.”
“You—and Mrs. Vrchcabova?”
“Yesterday we had the first banns read.”
“You don’t mean to say that you intend to marry Mrs. Vrchcabova? For heaven’s sake, tell me how it happened.”
“Well, it began at the county court during the proceedings against her for assault upon my honor. When they called us into the court-room, the Judge was sitting at his desk writing with his back turned to us. You probably know him, Mr. Attorney, don’t you?”
“I’ve seen him a good many times. He would serve himself and others best if he’d retire to his well-earned rest.”
“To be sure, he is a very old man. His head is as white as snow. But his cheeks still glow with health. Well, then, he was sitting with his back to us and kept on writing. At the other desk sat a clerk with pen in hand arranging some papers in front of him. We sat silent for a while. Then Mrs. Vrchcabova be-
