Page:Three stories by Vítězslav Hálek (1886).pdf/241

 so sorry for him.” And then he reminded Klimoff of all sorts of things—where he had walked with him, where they used to ramble together, when they had gone to hear the band play, and so forth. When this recapitulation was quite at an end, he would say “And now it is your turn, Klimoff, to tell me how you get on down there.” After this he listened for a moment, and when no reply came, he made as though he had heard an answer, and said “Ah! yes, that is just what I thought. How curious! Ah! ha! so it is like that down there. Ah! well! how different it must be when it is like that,” and so forth.

He had a very special set of reflections when after seven summers some one’s turn came to be exhumed. When he had delved down to the coffin, he rapped on the lid, and shouted “Are you there, Vaclav!” After this he answered himself for the dead man, ‘I am.’ “Come then, creep out,” he said again for himself; then with the greatest care he raised the lid of the coffin and, beholding the corpse which looked as if swathed in spider webs, he said “And pretty dainties thou dost get down there! What a figure thou art! Thy own children would not recognise thee if ever they were to meet thee! And not to have a rag on! Shocking! Pray when did you comb yourself? And what is the fashion your head gear follows? Nowadays we never wear it thus. To think of combing it thus.” And so on.