Page:Three stories by Vítězslav Hálek (1886).pdf/404

 When he departed, a flourish of music again rang forth, and Loyka, staggering, and leaning upon Vena, reeled towards his house. And when he was already not far from the threshold, he said, “Only bend thyself, proud tongue, audand [sic] pray. Harsh words, swaddle yourselves in silk, be soft and meek, be very meek and soft, ay, as soft as the droppings of birds! And here already some one stood on the door step and said, “I welcome you, tatinka; we have been expecting you.”

He who pronounced these words was not Joseph; it was Frank.

And here motes seemed to flicker before Loyka’s eyes, and after a minute or two, Bartos, Vena, and Frank carried him into the farmhouse.

They laid him on his bed, for the strain upon his nerves had been too great, and he had fainted. He breathed. He opened his eyes for a moment and closed them again immediately. He fell asleep.

After so many years he again slept under his own roof, and slept in the farmhouse.

It was already pretty late on the following day when he awoke; and when he awoke, he looked fixedly at the ceiling as if he was trying to call to mind how it used to look. Very much that had occurred seemed to him like a dream. As yet, he could hardly manage to assure himself that he was not still asleep.