Page:The Czechoslovak Review, vol4, 1920.pdf/100

Grandmother said they would be a great trouble, for those boys were like hounds and John was a regular scapegrace.

But Hortense smiled and offering both her hands asked: “Do you want to go with me?”

“Yes ma’am, yes ma’am!” cried the children in a chorus, taking hold of her hands. She bowed both to the Princess and her company and disappeared. The Princess then took a silver bell and rang it; in an instant the chamberlain appeared at the door. The Princess ordered him to see that breakfast was served in the small dining room, and gave him a package of papers to care for. He bowed and left the room.

While the Princess was speaking with the chamberlain, Grandmother was looking at the portraits upon the walls of the cabinet.

“O dear Lord!” she exclaimed when Leopold was gone, “what strange costumes and faces! This lady is dressed just as the late Mrs. Halashkow used to be dressed,—may her soul rest in peace! She used to wear high heeled shoes, a high bonnet, her petticoats puffed out, and her waist laced so tight that she loked as if she had been cut in two by a whip lash. Her husband was a city alderman in Dobruska, and when we went there on a pilgrimage, we saw her at church. Our boys called her a poppy doll, because in those petticoats and that powdered head she looked like a poppy blossom with the petals turned backwards. They said it was a French style of dress.”

“That lady is my grandmother,” said the Princess.

“Indeed? She is a fine lady,” replied Grandmother.

“The picture to the right is my grandfather, and the left one is my father,” continued the Princess.

“Very nice people! Your Grace does not deny her father; and may I ask, where is your mother?”

“There is my mother and sister,” said the Princess pointing to two portraits above her writing desk.

“A lovely lady, it gives one pleasure to look at her; but your sister does not recemble either her father or her mother; it is sometimes the case that a child takes after some distant relative. The face of this young man seems familiar to me; I cannot recollect where I saw it.”

“That is the Russian Emperor, Alexander, you did not know him.”

“Inded I knew him! why, I stood about twenty steps from him. He was a handsome man, here he is somewhat younger, but still I recognized him. He and the Emperor Joseph were excellent men.”

The Princess motioned to the opposite wall, where hung a picture,—a life size figure of a man.

“The Emperor Joseph!” exclaimed Grandmother clasping her hands. “A perfect likeness! How you have them all together! I did not dream that I should see the Emperor Joseph to-day. God grant his soul eternal glory; he was a good man, especially to the poor. This dollar he gave me with his own hand,” said Grandmother as she drew the silver dollar from her bosom.

The Princess was pleased with Grandmother’s simple-heartedness and timely remarks; so she asked her to relate how the Emperor came to give her the dollar. Grandmother needed no coaxing and at once began to tell the story of her dollar. The Princess laughed heartily. When Grandmother took another look about the cabinet, she espied the portrait of King Frederic.

“Why, this is the King of Prussia!” she exclaimed. “I knew that ruler well, too. My late husband George served in the Prussian army, and I spent fifteen years in Silesia. Once he had George called out of the ranks to him, and made him presents. He liked tall men, and my George was the tallest man in the regiment and well grown, like a maiden. Little did I think that I should look down into his grave! a man like a rock, and he is gone long ago and I am still here.” She sighed and wiped the tears from her wrinkled cheeks.

“Did your husband fall in battle?” asked the Princess.

“Not exactly, but he died from the effects of wound received in battle. When that rebellion broke out in Poland, and the Prussian King with the Russians invaded the country, our regiment was with them. I followed the army with my children; we had two then, the third was born in the field. That is Johana, who is now in Vienna; and I think that she is so courageous a girl, because from her birth she had to become accustomed to all sorts of hardships like a soldier. That was an unfortunate battle. After the first skirmish my husband was brought to me into the tent. A cannon ball had taken off his leg. They cut it off. I took all the care of him that was possible. As soon as he was a little better, he was sent back to Neisse. I was rejoiced. I hoped that when he got well they would not want him as a cripple, and that we could return to Bohemia. But my hopes were disappointed. He began to fail, and nothing could be done. I knew that he must die. What little money I had I gave for medicines and yet he was not helped. It seemed to me that I must lose my reason or that my heart must break from grief. But a person can endure much. I was left with three orphans, not a penny of money, and but little clothing. In that same regiment there was a certain Lehotsky, who was my husband’s best friend. He took me up, and when I told him I could weave blankets, he got me a loom and set me up in the trade. May God reward him! What I had learned in my youth as a pastime now did me good service. My work sold well, so that I soon paid off my debt to Lehotsky, and supported myself and the children comfortably. Although there were very good people