Page:Our Grandfather by Vítězslav Hálek (1887).pdf/51

 did the hatred which before he had felt for that trusty friend.

Even in his work Uncle John was like two different beings. Sometimes he did everything thoroughly and conscientiously; sometimes again he took no pains, and at times he did not work at anything for a whole day.

Once he came to the boundary stone which divided grandfather’s field from that of old Kubista.

Old Kubista was a-field. Uncle John went to him, kissed his hand, and said to him, “You know, Kubista, you only yet remain till death my father.”

Kubista’s tears fell fast. Without speaking a word he went home, and his people who worked with him a-field ceased in their work for the anguish which they felt with their honoured master.

Then uncle’s horses had a rest. He loosed them from the plough, and sat himself down alone at the boundary stone and thought—God alone knows of what; perhaps even be did not think of anything.

They brought him his dinner and he did not touch it. He sat till evening and perhaps would have sat even till next morning if Kubista had not gone back to the field and sat down beside him.

“I have not spoken to you about your daughter,” said Uncle John, as if between the time that Kubista departed and returned not a minute had intervened, “and trust me I am more intent upon reconciling myself with you than with my own father.”

“What avails hatred here. We know how you grew up together, and I, without her, might have been a happier father than as it is I am. Would that your father were now also happier than he has been hitherto.”