Page:The Czechoslovak Review, vol3, 1919.djvu/449

 In the month of July, the bishop of Hradec himself came to be present at the examinations, especially those in theology.

Zelenka grew so thin from the hard study that he looked like a pole.

The evening before the examinations proper, Špína begged Miss Elis to prepare him some black coffee that he might study all night. At the time of examinations Miss Elis watched along with her students. That night, at about ten o’clock, Frýbort slammed his book. “What I know, I know, I won’t gulp the rest over night.”

He laid down and in a moment was asleep, blissfully and contentedly. After eleven, Vavřena closed his book, and shortly afterward slumber closed his tired lids. Meanwhile, Špína drank his black coffee to chase away all sleepiness. The textbook of theology lay before him; he read and smoked. A thick smoke rolled in great volumes over the low room like mist on the mountains, and through it peered the untiring, pale face of Zelenka, who, cramped over the papers at the other table, was studying—or digging, as Frýbort used to say—by the glimmer of an oil lamp.

Miss Elis sat in her room by the window, gazing into the still, warm night. She felt certain that her students would cause her no shame tomorrow. Of Zelenka and Vavřena she was sure, Frýbort’s head was like a silver bell, and Špína had studied very diligently lately. But the anxious old lady did not know that he was merely sitting before a book, and his thoughts wandered, God knows where. It was toward midnight, when she noiselessly opened the door of the next room. She heard the peaceful snore of the sleeping, she saw Zelenka, vigilant like a night owl, and there in the corner Špína was sitting before a book. The cup was empty, coffee gone—and listen—that is snoringl Horrors! He drinks the coffee—and sleeps!

“Poor fellow, he is tired out!” Miss Elis thought to herself. “He succumbed to the weariness caused by so much studying. Should I wake him? But it is late, and he is sleepy, tired.”

And again she shuffled noiselessly back, and went to bed.

Next morning when the philosophers were leaving for the examinations, she wished them all success, and reminded them to sprinkle themselves with the holy water and to cross themselves with the holy cross. The whole forenoon she was as if on needles, running every little while to the window and peering out. The landlady’s Márinka was in a similar plight, and came to Miss Elis’ kitchen “just for a skip” many times during the forenoon. They spoke of nothing but the students and their examinations.

Through the warmed noon air resounded the peals of a bell, announcing high noon; yet half and hour passed before the steps and voices were heard down the hallway. Miss Elis, throwing down a spoon, quickly went into the corridor.

Márinka’s joyful voice and Frýbort’s laughter were heard from down stairs. Oh, it came out all right! And already Mr. Zelenka was here. The pale, withered face was brightened, the lips were smiling:

“Omnia eminenter, Miss Elis!”

“You certainly deserve them. I greet you!”

And behind him was ascending Vavřena, more composed, but also gay; the last was Frýbort.

“Miss Elis,” Frýbort cried still on the steps, “have you enough oats and feed for the flock of geese that I bring you?”

“Thank you kindly; your father would hardly like to see you with that kind of fowls.”

“He will gladly see me, gladly. They are not all eminences, but it came out all right!”

“The Lord be praised! But where is Mr. Špína?”

Neither Vavřena nor Frýbort answered. In the meantime they stepped into the parlor.

“The poor fellow, he has misfortune in every thing!” Vavřena spoke sadly.

“And he studied so diligently! What will he do now?”

Miss Elis’ joy was spoiled. She expected with certainty that Špína, who applied himself to studies so persistently, would make a good showing.

They waited for him, but he did not come.

“He did not want to spoil our joy,” thought Vavřena; “and truly, I do not enjoy this day so much as if Špína rejoiced with us.”

That still, sultry afternoon, Špína was sitting in the castle park, deep in the thicket under a pine tree. Resting his head in his hands, he looked fixedly on the ground.

He was slowly recovering from the blow. He was considering now what he should do, which course he should choose. Long he sat thus, until finally with slow steps he left the park. He went faster through the town, without turning; he thought that all were looking after him, whispering deridingly. At home he found Miss Elis alone. She brought him the dinner, served him all she had, and sympathetically made no mention whatever of the examinations.