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 Coeur 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.