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 “But you don’t know whether he is good when you haven’t talked with him.”

“He certainly is not bad. It doesn’t show in his eyes!”

“So you truly do like him?” Elška insisted searchingly.

“There are handsome boys in the village, but if you want the truth, I must say that no one of them pleases me as does he. I often dream of him!”

“What a person thinks of, that he dreams of.”

“Oh, not always. Dreams also come from God.”

“But tell me honestly—if that huntsman should say, ‘Bára, I mean to marry you,’ would you consent?”

“Elška, how you talk! He will never think of me, let alone wishing to marry me. Those are all vain dreams and speeches. Forget it all! Ho! Ho! Plavka, where are you going? Lišaj, where are you? Don’t you see Plavka getting after Březina?” Bára interjected, leaping up from the soft green turf to turn aside the cow, meanwhile.

Whenever later Elška wanted to turn the conversation to the subject of the huntsman Bára always evaded her by beginning about Hynek. By that magic word she knew she could turn Elška from any subject.

A few days later the steward was again at the parish. Nothing had frightened him off. But—he came in the daytime. Even at the parsonage there was discussion of the ghost. While the priest had no faith in similar superstititions, still it was thought there was something