“Wait a bit, baker,” Brych corrected him. “Kuzenda didn’t lay his hands on you. He hadn’t any notion he was going to work a miracle. He simply went like this with his hand, and then you said that you could breathe easily. That’s the way it was.”

“We were there when it happened,” said the young girl from Stechovice. “And the baker had a ring of light around his head, and then Mr. Kuzenda charmed away my consumption, didn’t he, Joe?”

The young fellow from Stechovic said, “That’s the honest truth, Mr. Hudec. But what happened to me is queerer still. I wasn’t straight, Mr. Hudec; I’d already been in jail for theft, and for another job besides. Mr. Brych here could tell you.”

“Oh, it wasn’t as bad as all that.” Mr. Brych dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “All that you needed was grace. But there’s some very queer things happen here, Mr. Hudec, on this spot. But perhaps you will find it out for yourself. Brother Kuzenda can give it you properly because he used to go to meetings before. Look, here he comes.”

Everyone turned towards the opening leading from the deck to the engine-room. From the opening there emerged a bearded face, wearing the forced, embarrassed smile of one who is being shoved from behind and is trying to pretend that nothing is happening. Mr. Kuzenda was visible now from the waist up, carrying in both hands a large tin tray on which stood cups and tins of preserves; he smiled uncertainly as he rose higher and higher. His feet could soon be seen on a level with the deck, and still Mr. Kuzenda and his cups went on rising in the air. About eighteen inches above the opening he stopped and began groping with his feet. There he hung unsupported in the air, apparently doing his utmost to get his feet to the ground.

Mr. Hudec was like a man in a dream. “What is the matter, Mr. Kuzenda?” he exclaimed, almost in terror.

“Nothing, nothing,” Kuzenda replied evasively, still trying to draw himself down from the air with his feet; and Mr. Hudec was reminded of a picture of the Ascension that in his childhood had hung above his little cot, and how Our Lord and the Apostles in precisely the same manner were hanging in the air and paddling with their feet, but showing less amazement on their faces.

Suddenly Mr. Kuzenda moved forward and floated, floated over the deck through the evening air as though a gentle breeze might carry him away; now and again he raised his feet as if he wanted to step out firmly or something, and he was visibly concerned for his cups.