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 At the kitchen door behind Cvok’s back the profile of spinster Regina appeared. Her eyes plainly said, “Do you see what he is driving at? He is just preparing his way. Don’t lend him anything!”

Ledecký looked steadily towards her, as if he would say, “Don’t you be afraid! I won’t be taken in.”

To Cvok he said, “True, your living is certainly no gold-mine. Záluzí is one of the poorest of villages; every corner is full of poverty there. But, in spite of that, you need not have cobwebs in your pocket, if you were only another sort of man, and would follow good advice when you get it.”

Cvok did not answer.

Ledecký went on: “I know you don’t like this sort of preaching. I admit that it is a beautiful thing to be such a pastor as you imagine, and as you yourself try to be. But this beautiful thing, this ideal pastor, is very unpractical, as your own form and figure plainly show. Where is the use of it? A priest is a man of flesh and blood like every one else, and must accommodate himself to the circumstances in which he is placed in his clerical office. Our country people are not what they are described in novels; if they are not absolutely obliged to give, you won’t shake a penny out of them. And then, when they see besides that their pastor does not seem to care particularly about money, and that he has neither the will nor the energy to demand and obtain what in all justice is due for his labour, they will tie up their purses: tight enough to choke them. You know, my dear Cvok, I do not wish to remind you of payment. I only mention it as a proof and an example. I lent you ten florins at the beginning of Advent; you promised you would take good care to pay them back, at least by instalments, and