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 “My housekeeper has undertaken the charge.”

“With that fable you may feed rustic minds; you won’t put me off with it.”

“I cannot serve your ladyship with anything else.”

“I can assure you that you shall and must serve me. Have you such a document or not?”

”I have not; but even if I had, it would depend entirely on myself whether I chose to show it to you or not.”

The baroness’s cheek grew scarlet with rage. She saw that she must stun this rustic priest with a heavier blow, and not allow him to brace himself up for a more energetic resistance.

“I am the patroness of this living,” she went on, her voice growing sharper with every word, “and I will never allow the seed of sin and vice to be scattered from this place—where as yet always well-conducted priests have led a godly life—on a field from which it is your duty, your sacred duty, to weed out every root of evil and depravity. For this purpose I am come here to-day, to prevent the disease from spreading like a vicious ulcer among the faithful. Where is the child? I shall take it away with me!”

During this threatening speech Cvok had turned all colours. Then he drew himself up, measured the baroness with a severe look, and said with calm, firm dignity—

“Madam! I have a right to request you to speak to me in my own house in terms suitable to my clerical office.”

“I have spoken to you in more than suitable terms.”

“You have spoken to me in a most unsuitable and unwarrantable manner, and I can only wonder that you, being a gentlewoman, should so far forget yourself!”