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 entered the room where, near the window, stood her vacant bed from which she had smiled at him so earnestly that his work went rapidly and perfectly—like play in fact; from which she had gazed at him so happily that he had been able to do whatever people asked him, he sank again into his chair gazing dully and confusedly into space and his poor mind could not cope with what Fate had sent him.

One morning he arose with brightened brow. It was Sunday and the bells were just ringing for early mass.

“Quickly bring me from the closet the shirt with the red hearts and my blue top-coat also,” he ordered the tenant in his accustomed voice and manner.

She was much amazed, for since Barka’s death he had never once worn the top-coat. He was taking care of it just as she had instructed him to do and the shirts with the hearts, which had been spun by her own hands, he cherished particularly. Yes, he recalled to a hair every word of hers spoken that evening before she started him on his journey to Bezděz.

“Don’t wait for me to-day from church,” he said to the tenant.

“And why not?”

“I can’t stand it here any longer. I’m going to punish this longing. I shall set out on the road to Vambeřice. Barka told me if I should get lonely while she was gone, that I should start out to meet her, so I’m going. Won’t she stare when I suddenly appear before her and say, ‘Here I am, our Barka.’”