III—GLIMPSES OF THE LIFE OF A PRINCESS
Excellenz von R—— during her stay in K—— remained sad over the murder of her friend, and no one spoke of anything but the political complications which might ensue. The plot, it seemed, had been known to the military and civil authorities in Sarajevo, and several arrests made even before the tragedy. The Archduke was very uneasy, and asked the Governor, General Potiorek, if it was safe to venture out to the reception in the town hall. "Absolutely safe," General Potiorek was unwise enough to reply, "I can stake my own life on your Highnesses' safety."
After Excellenz von R—— returned to Vienna the Bores arrived en masse to spend the whole month of July in K——. They were the Princess's young brother Count R——, his wife, and children, Elizabeth and Stefan. It is not without reason that they are known as the Bores. The Count was the most bearable of them—but even he was trying to one's nerves in hot weather. He was gay and irresponsible—had squandered his own fortune, and as much of his wife's as she would allow him, at baccarat. His particular sin was his unfortunate habit of writing verse to each and all of us and singing it, to his own melodies, on every embarrassing occasion. His verse was clever—and usually true, consequently it annoyed. The countess was a politician, devoting her attentions to the General, who spent his days in trying to avoid her.
"Jesus Maria!" he would say when, red and panting, he had made good his escape. "In all my years in Bosnia and Galicia I never had anything like this—pooh!"
Elizabeth—usually called Bethi—was sixteen, and Stefan was twelve. Both were small but they overran the whole Schloss; no person or thing was sacred to them, and no room escaped invasion.... Bethi was being educated in the Convent of the Sacré Cœur in Budapest, where all disliking her, the nuns advised her mother to have the girl's education completed at home—an advice which we in Schloss K—— could so well understand and sympathise with!...
The children were always first in church, occupying the most comfortable chairs in the chancel. Once they actually established themselves in the large velvet chairs placed for the Prince and Princess. Billy could not succeed in dislodging them, and Claire and I, on arrival, had to use force—to the amusement of all the peasant children—which so insulted Stefan that he sulked during Mass till he conceived the brilliant idea of stretching out his foot far enough to trip up an altar boy. The priest stumbled in the "Lavabo inter innocentes manus meas," and the old church servant, who had in earlier days been the village schoolmaster, shot out of the sacristy, as was his custom when the attention of the acolytes wandered, and soundly cuffed the unfortunate altar-boy. Happily the Countess had seen, and Stefan had a very bad quarter of an hour afterwards in the Schloss.