Page:Our Grandfather by Vítězslav Hálek (1887).pdf/50

 It is easily said—Betuska was buried. On a coffin adorned with garlands young men and maidens threw handfuls of earth, the gravediggers raised a mound, and parents spread over the grave fresh turf and adorned it with flowers.

But if by the grave closing over us everything else that was bound up with us could also come to an end, perhaps it were better it should die with us; but perhaps yet better it should live.

I am, in truth, in difficulties how to find words if I am to depict the spiritual state of Uncle John. Despair is little, and at the same time also much. He had moments when not the least anguish survived in his breast; hatred and wrath took its place, but he had moments also in which all this gave way to a horrible quietude, a sort of stupor, so that he could laugh with him who laughed, and curse with him who cursed.

And this before grandfather, who spoke but little with his son, and avoided his looks, which were full of reproach and horrible accusation, partly perhaps justified, but partly not so.

And at other times again, he went like a man crushed at heart, without will and feeling, chilled in all his perceptions, inaccessible to grief, and indifferent to pleasure.

Then he almost jested: he told grandfather that now he need not dread a hated marriage, and in general that affairs had turned out better than had ever been looked for.

Grandfather was now more afflicted than his son. The misfortune which he had caused to fall on the head of old Kubista, did not suffer him now to sleep more often than