VII—THE WISDOM OF UNCLE PISTA
From him we went to Aunt Sharolta and Uncle Pista—in Hungary all older people are addressed as uncle or aunt. Aunt Sharolta was nearly blind, but wonderfully sweet and gentle; and Uncle Pista was small, round and jovial—red-faced and white-haired. He always wore a piece of plaster on his nose, and we often speculated as to what might be below that plaster, for it certainly never was changed, and whether it had originally been black or pink no one knew, for from time immemorial it was grey. He was the most intrepid politician I have ever met. He had learned geography sixty years ago, had forgotten it for fifty, and I doubt if he rightly knew where Serbia lay from Austria. His daughters' geographical views were based on their father's.
When, on this particular day, we appeared in their house, hot and breathless and looking as if we had been picked out of the hay-stack, we found Uncle Pista bemoaning his horses and saying that if this sort of thing would continue he would have no nerves left. Aunt Sharolta was turning out all her drawers for things to manufacture into comforts for the soldiers, and having unearthed a piece of grey material embroidered with rose-buds she was making it into a chest-protector.
"Our boys," she explained, "will die of cold in Russia, if we don't make warm clothes for them."
"What's more to the point, my horses will die of cold in Russia," grumbled Uncle Pista.
"You don't think, then, that the Russians may break into Galicia?" I suggested.
"What an idea! Our army won't let them. Russia will take six weeks to mobilise—she can't do it in less—and by that time we shall have finished off Serbia and we can join the Germans in Russia. It's a pity though that the German Kaiser didn't keep quiet; of course he knows best, but there's no question but the Tsar was very impertinent to him lately, and William is hot-tempered. I've no doubt it's for the best, and it's one of God's mercies that we have the Kaiser behind us to help us against Russia. Our boys will be in St. Petersburg long before Christmas."