Stella.—But what?
Czeska.—A bird must have sung it, because I cannot remember who told me that he is a little bit like a storm.
Stella.—Yes, his life has been stormy, but he was not broken by it.
Czeska.—So much the better. Listen! Such people are the best—they are true men. The more I think of it, the more sincerely I congratulate you.
Stella.—Thank you. I am glad I spoke to you frankly. The fact is that I am very lonesome here: papa is always ailing and our doctor has been away for three months.
Czeska.—Let that doctor of yours alone.
Stella.—You never liked him.
Czeska.—You know that I am not easily prejudiced against any one, but
I do not like him.
Stella.—And do you know that he has been offered a professorship at the university, and that he is anxious to be elected a member of parliament? Mother, you are really unjust. You know that he sacrificed himself for us.
He is famous, rich, and a great student, but notwithstanding all that he remains with us when the whole world is open to him. I would surely have asked his advice.