"Do you remember, Lato? is it three or four weeks ago, the last time you were with me in Komaritz? I could jest then at my--embarrassments. I daily expected my release. Now----" he shrugs his shoulders.
"You were angry with me then; angry because I would not interfere," Lato says, with hesitation.
"Oh, it would have been useless," Harry mutters.
Instead of continuing the subject, Lato restlessly snaps a twig hanging above his head. "How terribly dry everything is!" he murmurs.
"Yes," says Harry; "so long as it was warm we looked for a storm; the cool weather has come without rain, and everything is dead."
"The spring will revive it all, and the blessing of the coming year will be doubled," Lato whispers, in a low, soft tone that rings through Harry's soul for years afterwards.
"Harry! Harry! where are you? Come, try one turn with me." It is Paula's powerful voice that calls thus. She is steering directly for the spot where the friends are seated.
"Give my love to Zdena, when you see her," Lato whispers in his friend's ear as he clasps Harry's hand warmly, and then vanishes among the dark shrubbery before the young fellow is aware of it.