A sad expression clouded her face. "Yes, I have, Ondrejko, but now I have only one wish—to remain forever in these mountains and never again have to look at that evil, deceitful world outside."
After a while Aunty brought breakfast. Ondrejko had to sit down at the beautifully-covered table. He was used to praying before eating in the hut, so he did it now also, and in the joy which overflowed his heart, he added, "I thank Thee, dear Lord Jesus, that You have so kindly answered me."
The lady had already lifted the cup to her lips, but she set it down again, and as if ashamed, bowed her head too. A tear appeared on her golden eyelashes. When the boy had finished eating, she asked him what he had asked Jesus Christ for. He confessed how much he had desired to see her, and that he almost envied his comrades. Then he asked permission to look also into the other book which lay on a small table. It was full of photographs of people. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, because about ten of them were pictures of herself, but she was dressed in all kinds of strange costumes. In one of the pictures she had on a loose dress like a cloak and a crown on her head. Under the picture was printed, "Mary Slavkovsky as Marie Stuart." The boy rested his curly head on his small palms, and thought.
"Why do you look so much at that picture?" said the lady, stroking his golden curls.
"Is this really you in all these pictures? Have you perhaps played in a theatre?" said Ondrejko.
She was astonished. "What do you know about theatres? Have you perhaps been in one of them?"
"No," he shook his head. "That could not be possible. I have not been." The boy's face saddened.
"What do you mean, Ondrejko?" said the lady, drawing him nearer to her.
"Oh, my mother also is pictured in photographs, but I shall never see her again."
"Your mother?" said she, wonderingly. "Is she not a country woman?"