“You Americans enjoy being comfortable, we Poles enjoy being miserable. If the Polish men had half the energy of the American men, we would indeed be a great people, and Cracow would be a city worthy of our pride in it.”
I am not sure that I am recording the Countess’ exact words, for to see her talk was such an æsthetic pleasure, that I must have forgotten much of what she said; but I give the substance of her words.
“See what America is doing for our peasants!” she continued.
“They go there lazy and shiftless, they come back thrifty and industrious, and are rapidly taking the places of our decayed nobility. When they come back, they have what we Slavs have always lacked—initiative. I wish we could export to you all our stock of Counts.”
I suggested that she might try it as a business venture; for they would bring a good price in our matrimonial market.
“Oh, no!” she replied. “We would want them back. They have talent and devotion; they need only to learn to work, and America is the world’s great boss.”
At this point in the conversation the Count entered the room. The Countess had told me that her home was the type of Poland; she had not told me what I soon discovered, that her husband was the typical Pole, both physically and mentally.
He was a small man with unmistakable Polish features, which looked well worn; for being a Polish nobleman, he had travelled through life swiftly and indulgently. After scarcely five minutes’ conversation, he began talking about the sufferings of the Poles, and what they would do if it were not for those wicked Germans.
Then followed what was as nearly a family jar as I care to witness. My hostess opened wide her beautiful eyes, and, in most forceful Polish, gave her liege lord a piece of her mind.
“I am tired of your tirades against the Germans. I don’t admire their methodical ways, myself; but they are doing things.