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love drama—for such we may call it—of Jenny and the baron seemed at first to make very slow progress; soon, however, it received an impetus which caused it to develope much more rapidly.

About three weeks after the companion had returned the baron’s letter, an accident happened at Labutín, which had very nearly extinguished all the future hopes and pride of the Poc̓ernický family. Even the old baroness, whose nerves—as the doctor, by the way, had once observed—were as tough as the strings of a bass viol, was greatly shaken by the event. Like all practical people, she only measured occurrences by what had actually taken place. What might have happened, she gladly left to the lively imaginations of journalists and people in general, who only talk for talk’s sake, or for their own advantage. But on this occasion even her strong mind lost its composure, and overflowed its usual normal bounds; the thoughts of what might have been ccupied and depressed her more than what had really taken place, and for a considerable time she felt much agitated and shaken by the storm which had suddenly burst upon her.

The eye of a good painter is sure to discover some-