etched in my mind by my auntâs words.
âWhen I was a child we lived in the country house most of the year. I remember whenever we came to Dobryd I thought it large and splendid.
âThen, at the age of fourteen, I was sent to boarding school in Vienna. Your grandfather, who felt at home in most of the capitals of Europe, wanted his children to know something of life beyond Dobryd. It was my first time away from home, and I realized that Dobryd was, after all, only a small town.
âBut it was never just a small town. Perhaps the fact of being near the renowned University of Lwow had something to do with it. There was also a tradition in the area that the people of Dobryd were a special breed. Wherever they might emigrate, they always distinguished themselves in some way. In any case, there was never anything sleepy or dull about the place, nor about the life that went on in your grandfatherâs house.
âWhen I first arrived at school, I remember that my teachers were surprised to find that I was as accomplished as any of the other students in the kind of knowledge that was then considered essential for a young girl. I spoke German as well as they did, my handwriting was sufficiently beautiful to hold up as an example, I had studied the violin, and I knew every variety of handiwork that was fashionable. I was also very skilful in making my own designs which the other girls copied.
âAt first when I arrived no one had ever heard of Dobryd. The first year I brought two of my new friends home for the holidays. Our house was always full of young people. Your grandfather enjoyed having them. He always said that he had more in common with them than with people his own age. It was very lively and gay during the holidays. My friends were surprised to find such charming, well-informed people in a place they had never even heard about. When we were back in school, they told the others about their visit, and from then on I was no longer teased about being homesick.
âMany years later, when your uncle was wounded in Italy during World War I, I went to keep him company while he convalesced. The hospital was in Naples and as soon as he was better we did a lot of sightseeing together. One time we spent a whole day in Pompeii. I was astonished by the level of civilization people had enjoyed there before its destruction. I had no sense of foreboding then, yet somehow it reminded me of Dobrydâa small town, distant from the centre of the world, Rome in this case, yet enjoying a rich and complex culture. By comparison, the villages we had passed that morning seemed to belong to a much more primitive epoch.
âAlthough we lived in the country until your mother was born, most of your grandfatherâs family lived in Dobryd. Your grandfather was born there, and his family had lived there for as long as anyone could remember. In every generation there were always some who left. The younger ones went to study abroad, in Vienna or Lausanne. Often they would settle there. Others emigrated to New York or Montevideo, not out of choice, but because of some scandal or a sudden bankruptcy. I remember that these cousins cried when they came to say good-bye to us. How we pitied them.
âOften they became prosperous in their new homes. Some of their new wealth was spent on trips to Dobryd and lavish presents. Yet we always sympathized with them for having to live out their lives amongst strangers. Their sons and daughters, born and raised in distant cities, were also sent home on holidays to acquaint them with the rest of the family. Their parents secretly hoped that when they returned they would bring back a bride or a future husband. This was only one of the ways in which the links between Dobryd and other faraway places were constantly renewed and strengthened.
âOne regular visitor from abroad was your great-uncle Louis. I donât think you ever saw him. No, of course you couldnât have. He came
âWhen I was a child we lived in the country house most of the year. I remember whenever we came to Dobryd I thought it large and splendid.
âThen, at the age of fourteen, I was sent to boarding school in Vienna. Your grandfather, who felt at home in most of the capitals of Europe, wanted his children to know something of life beyond Dobryd. It was my first time away from home, and I realized that Dobryd was, after all, only a small town.
âBut it was never just a small town. Perhaps the fact of being near the renowned University of Lwow had something to do with it. There was also a tradition in the area that the people of Dobryd were a special breed. Wherever they might emigrate, they always distinguished themselves in some way. In any case, there was never anything sleepy or dull about the place, nor about the life that went on in your grandfatherâs house.
âWhen I first arrived at school, I remember that my teachers were surprised to find that I was as accomplished as any of the other students in the kind of knowledge that was then considered essential for a young girl. I spoke German as well as they did, my handwriting was sufficiently beautiful to hold up as an example, I had studied the violin, and I knew every variety of handiwork that was fashionable. I was also very skilful in making my own designs which the other girls copied.
âAt first when I arrived no one had ever heard of Dobryd. The first year I brought two of my new friends home for the holidays. Our house was always full of young people. Your grandfather enjoyed having them. He always said that he had more in common with them than with people his own age. It was very lively and gay during the holidays. My friends were surprised to find such charming, well-informed people in a place they had never even heard about. When we were back in school, they told the others about their visit, and from then on I was no longer teased about being homesick.
âMany years later, when your uncle was wounded in Italy during World War I, I went to keep him company while he convalesced. The hospital was in Naples and as soon as he was better we did a lot of sightseeing together. One time we spent a whole day in Pompeii. I was astonished by the level of civilization people had enjoyed there before its destruction. I had no sense of foreboding then, yet somehow it reminded me of Dobrydâa small town, distant from the centre of the world, Rome in this case, yet enjoying a rich and complex culture. By comparison, the villages we had passed that morning seemed to belong to a much more primitive epoch.
âAlthough we lived in the country until your mother was born, most of your grandfatherâs family lived in Dobryd. Your grandfather was born there, and his family had lived there for as long as anyone could remember. In every generation there were always some who left. The younger ones went to study abroad, in Vienna or Lausanne. Often they would settle there. Others emigrated to New York or Montevideo, not out of choice, but because of some scandal or a sudden bankruptcy. I remember that these cousins cried when they came to say good-bye to us. How we pitied them.
âOften they became prosperous in their new homes. Some of their new wealth was spent on trips to Dobryd and lavish presents. Yet we always sympathized with them for having to live out their lives amongst strangers. Their sons and daughters, born and raised in distant cities, were also sent home on holidays to acquaint them with the rest of the family. Their parents secretly hoped that when they returned they would bring back a bride or a future husband. This was only one of the ways in which the links between Dobryd and other faraway places were constantly renewed and strengthened.
âOne regular visitor from abroad was your great-uncle Louis. I donât think you ever saw him. No, of course you couldnât have. He came
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