Page:Three stories by Vítězslav Hálek (1886).pdf/88

 But he did nothing, and yet he waited until everything was at an end. Gentry and ladies dispersed from Krista’s house, and throughout the first floor silence began to reign. In the street where he stood not a living soul was to be heard.

The lights in Krista’s window were extinguished and then a single window opened. It was a warm summer night and the window could remain open all night long.

The moon shone just in the direction of Krista’s window, and Venik stood in the shadow of the opposite houses.

From Krista’s window a head peeped out, and perhaps it was her head. Venik at that time stood facing her and was alone. Even she was alone at last. Then the head vanished and did not appear again.

If he had wished to address her, he could have done so before, but now it was too late. And what was there to say? Where to begin and where to end? His speech might need to be a very long one or it might be a single word. And what was the word? Where was it to be found.

If at that period when he sought her three years ago he had been ten times further away from her, he would have spoken to her, now he was but a few paces from her and yet he did not open his lips. Now he was simultaneously moved to anger, to weeping, and to laughter, and he neither wept nor