On the way, Bozena refused to go on and begged to stay at home one day longer. Much persuasion and considerable force were required before the old aunt succeeded in getting her into the school room, but her fears were soon dispelled by the kind, pleasant school master. In this school she remained six years, and it was this teacher, as she afterwards acknowledged, who laid the foundation of her future culture and taught her to love her neighbor, her country, and her God. She kept his memory green in the pretty tale of "The Schoolmaster."
When Bozena left school, she lived at Chvalkovitz in the family of the steward of the manor. As her stay here had much influence upon her life, some account of her surroundings will not be out of place. She said:
"The steward was a good friend of my father's, and that was why I was placed in the family. He was a man in middle life, the most learned of all the officers, indeed, of the whole neighborhood. He had a fine library, and that not merely for ornament. Shakespeare and Goethe were his favorite authors. He was well versed both in the classics and in modern literature. He read French and English and always took the best journals. He was also very fond of gardening. Although he wished well to the Bohemians, his own sentiments were those of a true German. He was a good, jovial man, an admirer of beauty, fond of good living, hospitable, and agreeable to all. His influence could have been exerted much for good, had his domestic relations been different.
"His wife, who was several years his senior, was in no way congenial to him. She had been maid of honor to the Princess, and when young must have been beautiful; but now her black hair and her sky blue eyes were her only remaining charms. This, however, was not the cause of the trouble. She and her husband were not adapted to each other. She was a bigoted Catholic, while he was a Protestant who hated priests. She could bear no reflections upon the nobility; the time she had spent in the castle she regarded the most delightful period of her life, and her husband tormented her for this with the most bitter irony.
"Then, too, he preferred Bohemian cookery, while she prepared everything according to an Austrian cook-book. When he would not eat, her eyes filled with tears as she said: 'Aber, August, es ist ja gut, iss nur.' To which he usually replied: 'Ich glaub's, liebe Netti, habe aber keinen appetit.' Then he smiled grimly, arose, drank a glass of wine, and went into the fields,—a sure sign that something was wrong. These fits grew more and more frequent, until not a day passed when he was not under the influence of liquor, and at such times he indulged in the most cutting remarks, causing intense suffering to his wife. I often came upon her kneeling with hands upraised before the crucifix, and weeping bitterly. I pitied her, but on other occasions I was sorry for him. He wanted to enjoy life, but something ailed her all the time; she was swathed in flannels from one end of the year to the other. When she went to bed, she was dressed like a driver ready to start for Amsterdam.
"He read late at night and early in the morning, and when thus engaged no one dared disturb him. His wife was very jealous of him, and in her turn succeeded in inflicting on him as much wretchedness as he on other occasions caused her. They had three children, and it grieved him much that they were not at all bright. As I was there for study, I often went to him to ask a question, to have something explained, or to change my book, and he always did everything for me with the greatest pleasure. When I had read a book through, I was obliged to tell him its contents, and he explained what I had not understood. Some evenings I read to him; in short, I became his pet and at once aroused the jealousy of his wife. Later it was worse."
She describes the house as follows: "The manorhouse had, indeed, been renovated, but upon the old foundation, so that it was half old and had lost none of its somber appearance. It lacked not in dark underground passages nor in fearful tales of ghosts, so that I was almost dead with terror when I was obliged after dark to cross from the apartments of the servants to our own rooms. The way led through a long, dark corridor, lighted by high gothic windows, through which the light of the moon came in, making fantastic shapes upon the walls. It was said that a white lady haunted the passage, also one of the family of Dobren, who had been murdered there and who walked about in his shroud, from his room to the chapel, carrying his head under his arm.
"And my chamber! I was lost in it. It was high, dark, with tall windows and oaken blinds. The doors were of the same material, with heavy iron bolts which I always closed for the night. But one becomes accustomed to everyvthing;—I, too, soon felt at home in the old manor-house, and looked upon myself as one of the 'ladies of the castle' of whom I had read so much."
A young and beautiful castle maid must also have her knight, and so far as is known there were two such knights, who lived in the castle above. Of these she speaks:
"The one was a youth about seventeen years of age, a relative of the lord of the castle. He was a good boy, but somewhat foolish, handsome, but with no expression in his face. We were good friends, but when I was told that he was in love with me, that was the end of our friendship.
"The other knight was quite different. He was no longer young, being about thirty-six years of age. He was dark, well built, but small. His face had something satanic in it, but was not repulsive. His forehead was high, his hair, dark brown; he had handsome white teeth, his eye—that was demoniac. He could look dreamily, lovingly, so that all the young women were in love with him. When he fixed his eye upon any one, which he often did, he was irresistible. The person was like a bird charmed by the eye of its destroyer.
"He was a strange man. At times he was a great spend-thrift, then again he was the most exemplary of men. Now he laughed at the whole world and no sentiment was sacred to him; and yet I saw the time when he was entirely overcome by his own feelings. He seemed cold, and yet he was the most passionate of men. He was a man of the world, experienced in all the ins and outs of society. Although fond of gay company, he himself was never gay. He was passionately fond of dancing, but was never carried away by the excitement. While he danced, his face was paler than usual, but his eyes betrayed the fire within.
"He had no respect for women. I never saw him kiss the hand of any lady, nor give a compliment to any of them. He held our mistress for nought; she was the butt of all his wit. He ruled the house; the steward liked him, and the rest of us were afraid of him. Whenever he fixed his eyes upon me, i trembled, and yet I was never angry; I was the only one whom he loved; before me he wept like a child, but that was much later. At this time he had regard for my youth and treated me with great consideration, and severely reprimanded any one who dared utter a word of double meaning before me."
Bozena remained in this family only two years, but the instruction she gained in that short time was invaluable to her. Under the direction of the steward she had read many excellent books, and what he had not given her she took and read secretly. She had been placed there to learn German, music, and needle work. Music she soon gave up, when her instructor told her she had no talent for it. As for her needle work, her teacher found her very careless and often reprimanded her severely; but she bore his censure meekly, knowing that it was well deserved.
Her time was spent among books, and she lived in an ideal world whose inhabitants were the heroes and heroines of novels, poems, and dramas. When she returned home she continued her reading, borrowing books from the castle library.
Her life at home was quiet, but full of ideals and aspirations. She looked forward to the future as to a new world that had wondrous treasures in store for her.
But her dreams were cut short by her marriage, in 1837, to Joseph Nemec, an officer of finance in Kosteletz. It was a marriage without love, entered into at the wish of her father. How she regarded this step may be judged from her own words.
"The years of my girlhood were the most beautiful of my life. When I married I wept over my lost liberty,