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“ Lord Jesus Christ be praised!” was Cvok’s greeting to Ledecký, saluting him on both cheeks after the clerical manner.

“Come in, reverend brother,” said the Suchdol friend, welcoming him. “Sit down—sit down,” pointing to a chair near the oaken table, which stood in the middle of the room.

They both sat down. Ledecký placed his chair so that he could keep an eye upon the kitchen door. Cvok turned his back to it. “I dare say you are tired,” said Ledecký.

“Not much,” replied Cvok. “Thank God, my legs are still as fresh as fiddle-strings, and I am as active as a minnow. There is no fear that the clerical complaint will ever touch me. I think, as far as the well-being of legs is concerned, the living of Záluzí is worth gold!”

“Why do you say ‘the clerical complaint’?” said Ledecký, reprovingly; “as if the gout was not found anywhere except in clerical dwellings. This looks as if you ridiculed your own calling; and yet I know that you are a very worthy labourer in the Lord’s vineyard!”

“Only I get marvellously little wages,” sighed poor Cvok, fixing his eyes upon the table.