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 That is your whole misfortune; that is the reason you are misunderstood, and misrepresented, and slightingly spoken of under cover of fun. People are too indolent to try to understand you. That nickname they have given you—‘Heavens’—is not so inappropriate. There is something of heaven about you, truly. Now, if anybody except myself had listened to your speech, what would he have gathered from it? Very little, indeed; or even worse—for he might perhaps say you were a clumsy hypocrite. But I gather very much from your words. In the first place, that the child is not yours; in the second place, that his mother is Miss Jenny; and thirdly, that his father”

“For God’s sake, stop—say no more!”

“Well, his father does not live far from Labutín anyway.”

Cvok was bathed in perspiration from fear and anxiety, and peered about the garden to make sure that nobody was within earshot.

“Don’t be afraid; we are quite alone here,” said Ledecký, to set his mind at rest. And, without appearing to notice the imploring expression in poor Cvok’s eyes, went on.

“And I gather still more from your speech, my dear friend—that you are shielding three people, and perhaps even more, with your own person. And it need not and ought not to have been so. Miss Jenny should have had more sense and consideration; but a woman is a woman and a mother is a mother all the world over. She only thought of you as the kind-hearted man, and forgot you were a priest too. Who can help that? And you thought that you were a man—that you were a Christian—and you also forgot the priest. This you might have helped, of course. But that is just the rub;