pensive, and he never once inquired about Prague, his old father and mother. The young father and his son would often sit side by side at my table whispering. The usually reticent watchmaker would try to acquaint the child with his plans, most of which he kept from me. Why did he whisper? I did not understand his language. And I would never have betrayed him! All seemed peaceful, no police came looking, there was no mention in the Prague papers of a child-napping, at least not in the current editions.
According to the law child-napping was a crime. At this time of the American kidnappings it was considered the most despicable crime of all in popular opinion. Justifiably people were more outraged by it than by theft-induced murder. I suppose that is why myforeboding was gloomier than ever. Was it the angelic Jaroslaus’ fault? Surely he was the most innocent of us all? No angel could lock its sky-blue gaze on my eyes more innocently and directly, forcing me to look away. I took his father aside and offered him money. I advised him to escape—alone! Perhaps the man had received good news about the crossing to America that very day for he just laughed.
XVI
I WAS DELIGHTED for him knowing that he’d soon be where he had longed to be for such a long time. So I hid the fact that I’d miss him. I was concerned, however, about how the child would react to these plans and one day asked him—we understood each other reasonably well by now—whether he was glad to be going on this long voyage with Mr Kohoutek. Fetchingly the boy took my hands, pulled me down to him and whispered with sparkling eyes: “
Non Kohoutek, Papa! Papa! Papa oui
!” Followed by something incomprehensible in Czech which, judging by his gestures, meant the same thing. And how exuberantly he embraced his father when he returned home that evening, tired but happy, with one of the many necessary visas in his pocket! There was a ship leaving in three days. Crossing the border might have cost the father a lot of money, but by denying himself everything that was not strictly necessary he managed to have enough left. But a few things still had to be taken care of and while he rushed around the city to get them done the child stayed with me, playing with the stamps which he cut from my letters or playing out in the yard or in the small park. The watchmaker always returned with something for the child, fruit,sweets or a cheap toy. The boy had probably never received pocket money from him. It was therefore understandable that he showed interest in the French coins cast in nickel and bronze, some of them with an intriguing hole in the middle. I let him play with them and found it delightful that he would always return them in full. He had excellent manners and I learned from his father he was also top of his class. One would expect no less with Jarmila as the mother and Maruschka as the step-mother.
But all joking aside, when Bedřich and I were sitting together late one evening in a café and his departure was approaching, I confessed how disappointed I was in him: what about the man he used to call “Oom-Pah” and now simply referred to as “the old fellow” and of Maruschka, wilted before her time: they must be worried sick about the child back in Prague? My friend didn’t fly into a rage. My concerns did not surprise him and he promised to make amends. He gave me “the old fellow’s” address and asked me to send news of the child upon their arrival in America, using a typewriter and not revealing their address. It wasn’t quite what I’d had in mind, but was certainly preferable to the ongoing silence which had shrouded the child’s fate so far.
Was there a real solution? Could nature be reconciled with the law? From my small balcony I have a view of the park. A wooden hut stood on its peripheryfrom where an old lady sells cheap ice-cream and coconut milk to the children playing in the park. I wanted to give the dear, sweet boy a treat, and so I
According to the law child-napping was a crime. At this time of the American kidnappings it was considered the most despicable crime of all in popular opinion. Justifiably people were more outraged by it than by theft-induced murder. I suppose that is why myforeboding was gloomier than ever. Was it the angelic Jaroslaus’ fault? Surely he was the most innocent of us all? No angel could lock its sky-blue gaze on my eyes more innocently and directly, forcing me to look away. I took his father aside and offered him money. I advised him to escape—alone! Perhaps the man had received good news about the crossing to America that very day for he just laughed.
XVI
I WAS DELIGHTED for him knowing that he’d soon be where he had longed to be for such a long time. So I hid the fact that I’d miss him. I was concerned, however, about how the child would react to these plans and one day asked him—we understood each other reasonably well by now—whether he was glad to be going on this long voyage with Mr Kohoutek. Fetchingly the boy took my hands, pulled me down to him and whispered with sparkling eyes: “
Non Kohoutek, Papa! Papa! Papa oui
!” Followed by something incomprehensible in Czech which, judging by his gestures, meant the same thing. And how exuberantly he embraced his father when he returned home that evening, tired but happy, with one of the many necessary visas in his pocket! There was a ship leaving in three days. Crossing the border might have cost the father a lot of money, but by denying himself everything that was not strictly necessary he managed to have enough left. But a few things still had to be taken care of and while he rushed around the city to get them done the child stayed with me, playing with the stamps which he cut from my letters or playing out in the yard or in the small park. The watchmaker always returned with something for the child, fruit,sweets or a cheap toy. The boy had probably never received pocket money from him. It was therefore understandable that he showed interest in the French coins cast in nickel and bronze, some of them with an intriguing hole in the middle. I let him play with them and found it delightful that he would always return them in full. He had excellent manners and I learned from his father he was also top of his class. One would expect no less with Jarmila as the mother and Maruschka as the step-mother.
But all joking aside, when Bedřich and I were sitting together late one evening in a café and his departure was approaching, I confessed how disappointed I was in him: what about the man he used to call “Oom-Pah” and now simply referred to as “the old fellow” and of Maruschka, wilted before her time: they must be worried sick about the child back in Prague? My friend didn’t fly into a rage. My concerns did not surprise him and he promised to make amends. He gave me “the old fellow’s” address and asked me to send news of the child upon their arrival in America, using a typewriter and not revealing their address. It wasn’t quite what I’d had in mind, but was certainly preferable to the ongoing silence which had shrouded the child’s fate so far.
Was there a real solution? Could nature be reconciled with the law? From my small balcony I have a view of the park. A wooden hut stood on its peripheryfrom where an old lady sells cheap ice-cream and coconut milk to the children playing in the park. I wanted to give the dear, sweet boy a treat, and so I
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