Читать книгу Partner in Three Worlds - Dorothy Duncan - Страница 12

Table of Contents

IT was no time at all after I began to deliver Mother’s work that I came to think of Prague as the boundary of my life, instead of one room. I became familiar with the city and its various parts, and began to take the life of its streets for granted. There were plenty of officers with clanking swords and beautifully embroidered uniforms and high black caps. There were German students with scars on their faces. There were the dragoons with their golden helmets, and all the other regiments of the garrison who marched behind bands that played martial music. There were plain people, too, and young ones and old ones, and I learned to pick out of the crowd those I liked, while the rest flowed by in a stream.

My favorite spot in the whole city was the new and busy section around Wenzeslaus Square, backed by the National Museum. This was the section where well-dressed men and women shopped for fine paintings, glass, silks, laces and exquisite clothes. It was also the section where members of the Austrian aristocracy rode out on fine afternoons in their shining broughams.

One wing of the castle on the Hrad had been given over to daughters of the aristocracy who had not married and yet were considered too modern to go into a nunnery. Here they lived under severe regulations, though not exactly closed away from the world. They had the privilege of making shopping expeditions on occasion, and they always appeared in public two by two in carriages which were distinct from those of other wealthy families of Prague. The driver and coachmen on these broughams wore court uniforms, the horses were always white with long white tails that reached nearly to the ground, and even the harnesses were of sterling silver.

I liked especially to watch for these carriages, and I had my favorites among the aristocratic spinsters. Two of them went often to Stutzig & Jäger’s for afternoon chocolate and cakes, and I came to know the time of these frequent visits. One of these spinsters was very old and I thought she looked like a witch. The young one who was her constant companion was as beautiful in my eyes as a fairy queen. When the groom held open the carriage door for them he took off his hat and swept it to the ground. I was always as close behind him as I dared to be, wondering what I should do if the beautiful one ever stopped to ask the name of the boy who watched them so attentively.

After awhile I found more interesting things to do. Grandmother fell into the habit of taking me with her as she walked on the Karlové náměstí. At one corner of its beautiful garden was a large coffeehouse called U Krále Karla IV (“At the King Charles IV”). We always went into this coffeehouse through the back door, straight into a large and spotlessly clean kitchen, and there we were welcomed by a huge, handsome woman who was the cook.

I loved the smells here, and there were always waiters running up and down from the kitchen to the customers in front. So I was quite willing to sit here by the hour while Grandmother talked in a corner with the cook and we all drank coffee and ate cakes.

And then one day this same huge woman from the kitchen of U Krále Karla IV appeared at the door of our room, but she was no longer good-natured. I spoke to her politely and told her Grandmother was out, but she brushed past me and confronted Mother with a bill for all the coffee and cakes we had eaten for weeks past. She said Grandmother had told her that her daughter would send her money for it all, and she was angry because the bill was so long overdue. Mother paid her without a word and the woman went away.

When Grandmother came home Mother asked her quietly why she had done it. Grandmother replied that if Mother said anything to make her feel guilty she would write to my uncle at once and tell him so. Besides, she said, she could hardly be expected to sit at home all day and look at nothing but her daughter and grandchild by the hour.

I doubt if she did write to my uncle about it, but not long after that a different kind of letter came from Berlin. I was invited to spend a summer with Uncle’s family. Mother asked me with a shining face if I would like to go, but I had no answer. What was Berlin, except the name of the place where boxes came from every Christmas and Easter? How far was far away? I tried to measure the sensation of going away.

“Will you like it in Berlin?” I asked her.

She emptied the grounds from the coffeepot and set it back on the stove, hiding her eyes as she explained. “You’ll have to go alone, Jan,” she said. “A friend of your uncle’s will take you. And I must stay here. I couldn’t leave Grandmother alone, you know.”

I thought about this carefully. “Uncle wouldn’t like that,” I said. “He wouldn’t like me without you.”

Mother’s hands worked at the sink while her voice went on explaining. Uncle had invited only me. He had sent a ticket in his letter, and it was all arranged that his friend should look after me on the train. It would be only for a little while, and when I came back at the end of the summer I could tell them all about Berlin and my cousin and Uncle and Aunt.

I thought about it some more, and then I said with firmness, “Thank you, I guess I’ll stay here, too. You can look after Grandmother, and I’ll look after you.”

But Mother had other plans. It became obvious that she had no intention of letting me settle this question for myself. It was an opportunity for me to see the world and have some of the advantages, even for a single summer, that she couldn’t give me. I was to leave the day after tomorrow. Before I could reply she went on to tell me what a lovely summer it was going to be, what good times I would have, the games I would play with my cousin and his friends, how I could learn to swim at beaches, what fun it would be to tell her all about it when I came home, and how wonderful it was to have an aunt and uncle who loved me enough to ask me to stay with them.

“But who will run errands for you while I’m gone?” I said weakly.

She looked at me then, knowing I had given in. Quickly she changed the subject to talk about the small presents I would take for each member of the Berlin household. She would make them herself. As she went back to the walnut table I twisted my head on the heel of my hand to watch her. She was smiling! Berlin must be a good place, I decided, if thinking about it made her look like that. Maybe I would like it after all. Besides, I had been sent for, and that made me important. I could hardly wait for the time to leave.