Page:The grandmother; a story of country life in Bohemia.pdf/321

Rh were playing in the yard, but were so warm that they would have gladly taken off their clothes and jumped into the stream, if Grandmother had only given them permission. Adelka, who was always bright and active as a linnet, was gaping; she did not feel like playing; and finally her eyes closed and she was asleep. Grandmother, too, felt her eyelids growing heavy. The swallows flew low, and at last hid in their nests; the spider that Grandmother had watched that morning, as he decoyed and devoured several flies, concealed himself in his den; the poultry in the yard gathered in groups; the dogs lay stretched at Grandmother's feet, and with their tongues drawn out as if they had come from some wild chase, panted for breath. The trees stood perfectly quiet; not a leaf stirred.

Mr. and Mrs. Proshek came home from the castle. "My dear people, a terrible storm is coming on, is everything safe at home?" called Mrs. Proshek from afar. The linen bleaching on the grass, the poultry, the children,—everything was attended to and put out of the way of danger. Grandmother placed a loaf of bread upon the table and got ready the "blessed" storm candle. All the windows were closed. The air was sultry, the sun was covered by a dark cloud. Mr. Proshek stood in the road, looking in all directions. In the woods he saw Victorka standing under a tree; a brisk wind came up, the hollow rumbling of thunder was heard, streaks of lightning shot through the dark clouds. "Heavens, that woman stands under a tree!" said Mr. Proshek to himself and began to call and motion to Victorka to go away. She, however, did not notice him, and at each flash of lightning clapped her hands