Part 11 (1/2)
”I say she's the sweetest girl in all Prague; and more's the pity she should have taken such a fancy as this.”
”She mustn't marry him, of course, Souchey.”
”Not if it can be helped, Lotta.”
”It must be helped. You and I must help it, if no one else can do so.”
”That's easy said, Lotta.”
”We can do it, if we are minded--that is, if you are minded. Only think what a thing it would be for her to be the wife of a Jew! Think of her soul, Souchey!”
Souchey shuddered. He did not like being told of people's souls, feeling probably that the misfortunes of this world were quite heavy enough for a poor wight like himself, without any addition in antic.i.p.ation of futurity. ”Think of her soul, Souchey,” repeated Lotta, who was at all points a good churchwoman.
”It's bad enough any way,” said Souchey.
”And there's our Ziska would take her to-morrow in spite of the Jew.”
”Would he now?”
”That he would, without anything but what she stands up in. And he'd behave very handsome to anyone that would help him.”
”He'd be the first of his name that ever did, then. I have known the time when old Balatka there, poor as he is now, would give a florin when Karil Zamenoy begrudged six kreutzers.”
”And what has come of such giving? Josef Balatka is poor, and Karil Zamenoy bids fair to be as rich as any merchant in Prague. But no matter about that. Will you give a helping hand? There is nothing I wouldn't do for you, Souchey, if we could manage this between us.”
”Would you now?” And Souchey drew near, as though some closer bargain might be practicable between them.
”I would indeed; but, Souchey, talking won't do it.”
”What will do it?”
Lotta paused a moment, looking round the room carefully, till suddenly her eyes fell on a certain article which lay on Nina's work-table.
”What am I to do?” said Souchey, anxious to be at work with the prospect of so great a reward.
”Never mind,” said Lotta, whose tone of voice was suddenly changed.
”Never mind it now at least. And, Souchey, I think you'd better go to your work. We've been gossiping here ever so long.”
”Perhaps five minutes; and what does it signify?”
”She'd think it so odd to find us here together in the parlour.”
”Not odd at all.”
”Just as though we'd been listening to what they'd been saying. Go now, Souchey--there's a good fellow; and I'll come again the day after to-morrow and tell you. Go, I say. There are things that I must think of by myself.” And in this way she got Souchey to leave the room.
”Josef,” said Madame Zamenoy, as she took her place standing by Balatka's bedside--”Josef, this is very terrible.” Nina also was standing close by her father's head, with her hand upon her father's pillow. Balatka groaned, but made no immediate answer.
”It is terrible, horrible, abominable, and d.a.m.nable,” said Madame Zamenoy, bringing out one epithet after the other with renewed energy.
Balatka groaned again. What could he say in reply to such an address?
”Aunt Sophie,” said Nina, ”do not speak to father like that. He is ill.”