Page:Three stories by Vítězslav Hálek (1886).pdf/38

 “Come when you like, Krista,” said Venik with sudden determination. Who eyer heard of such a thing! You not to sing! I not to play! This very night I will bring away my violin and hang it on the tree, and play I will whene’er I have a mind to, and you shall come here when you choose,—upon my word you shall.”

“I shall not dare,” said Krista, plaintively, though Venik’s determination revived her considerably. “I am already but a cipher at the cottage. I have nothing more in the world. Why did they not bury me in the grave!”

At mention of the grave, Venik again gave way; but after a pause he said, “Meet here we will, you shall see, and if they pursue us we will away to the woods.”

And after this they went home as if from a second funeral. That same evening Venik took down his violin, even tore the nail out of the wall, and went with both to the hillside, hammered the nail into the hollow tree and hung the violin upon it. But he soon took down the violin and played upon it its own farewell and its own lament. Possibly the Rihas heard him—and how could they fail to hear him when the village was close to the hillside? however they said nothing when he came home. But Krista was the worse off of the two. Already she had no hillside to fly to. Already she had no breathing time to look forward to as a consolation. Already