Page:The Czechoslovak Review, vol3, 1919.djvu/401

 Mrs. Roller, widow of the former mayor, stricter and more powerful than the mayor himself ever was, thought herself still in power, and did not therefore relinquish her censorial office. Nothing was hid from her keen eyes, and everything was subject to her sharp and merciless criticism. Having crossed the grove in every direction, she stopped before Mrs. Roubínek, with whom she immediately began a very important conversation.

Lottynka danced almost all the time. Still she was dissatisfied. She was disappointed in her expectations. Vavřena, that handsome, energetic student, awoke in her a feeling of attraction, which she considered to be love. She was partial to him, and it flattered her that he always treated her with special attention. For the young philosopher had the reputation of being usually indifferent, even inattentive, in his dealings with the other sex. It would have been a great triumph for her, if she could boast that the cold young man humbled himself before her and begged for her love. And exactly this she was expecting to-day. At to-day’s celebration her wish was to have been realized; and that was the reason why the “majales” could not come soon enough for her.

And now she was disappointed!

It is true that Vavřena greeted her, but soon afterwards he left and was not returning, as if she were not in the grove at all. And what an unheard-of slight! He did not even come on time for the quadrille, for which he was engaged with her. That was no mere chance slip, that was an intentional slight! She was deeply insulted.

Her inclination for Vavfena was all at once gone, and a wounded pride took its place. Oh, she will entirely ignore that proud philosopher! She will let him feel it!

But secretly she was still expecting that he would beg; he, however, only offered his apology, went away, and did not come back. Perhaps he was sorry, perhaps he did not dare.

She returned to her mother from the hall all flushed with the dances. Just then Mrs. Roller was leaving Mrs. Roubínek.

“Come, Letty, ''komm, komm, mein liebes Kind! Bedenke nur! Die Leny!''” (—“Come, come, my dear child! Just think! That Leny!”)

“What happened?”

She was informed of what the former mayor’s widow had told her mother. Letty grew red with anger, distorted proudly her pretty lips, and laughed disdainfully.

“Oh, here she is,” Mrs. Roubínek cried presently,, [sic]catching sight of the approaching Lenka.

“Congratulations, congratulations!” Lotty addressed her relative sarcastically.

“Behold, the quiet innocent!” added the mother, and malicious glance of hers struck Lenka, who was standing calm, without a word, as if she were prepared for this abuse.

She expected jeering, storm, everything spiteful; she already had suffered many things in the house of her uncle, and was not afraid of what was coming. In fact, she exulted inwardly, for she in reality had won; no matter what happens, she no longer is alone, friendless. So much of warm light shines for her now, that she no longer feared the unfeeling, cold ridicule.

What a glorious success it was, those “majales”!

The eventide was already falling. The last rays illumined the grove, and were reflected from the grassy carpet up the trees to the shady crowns. Still the gayety was not abating. The band played almost incessantly, laughter and glee did not slacken, and the songs of the students, full of hilarious vivacity, became louder and gayer.

Deep within the grove, a circle of students was gathered. Some were seated on roughly-hewn benches, others on the grass under the trees; every one of them was busily applying the beer-mug to his lips. They sang, laughed, and joked. All were full of vivacity, save Špína. He sat on the edge of a bench, resting his head on his hands. The high hat was pushed far back on his head, and his wing-like coat-tails hung impotently, like broken pinions, down the bench.

“You look desperate, Špína! What is the matter with you?” cried one of the students.

“Leave me alone!” rejoined the lank philosopher gruffly, and grasping his beer-mug, drank with long draughts.

Where is Zelenka? I did not see him here at all!” again inquired the first student. And someone else answered for Špína:

“You may be sure that he is not here; he digs at home—the old woman! He is afraid of consequences; he is too cautious!”

“The hawk! The hawk!” cried suddenly another student, and pointed with his beer-mug toward Mrs. Roller, who, with her handbag on her left wrist, was passing nearby spyingly. All burst out laughing.

“Vivat commissarius!”