of that, you are brilliant. All these things together are unforgivable.”
Vítězka was about to say all that, but at the last minute she did not. She couldn’t. She remained silent. This was her most heartfelt rebellion against the person who was better than she in every way, even as she now cried in her arms.
Božena talked and cried and talked. Her words fell upon the gray waves of the Vltava and the river carried them far away.
This was Vítězka’s final revenge.
One day in May, Herr Anton von Päumann, the prefect of Prague, sat down at his work desk in the prefecture, and found that two items had been delivered to him. Both were from the same sender: Fräulein Zaleski. The first, a large envelope, contained a pretty sizable text, dated December 1854—March 1855; and the other one, much smaller, clearly contained a letter. The prefect picked up the first envelope. The note accompanying the text said, among other things: “You contracted my services in order to reveal the existence of a conspiracy, to ensure that the bad would be punished. I have sent you a detailed report on the current relationship between Němcová and her latest lover.” Anton von Päumann started to read:
The woman, still young, accompanied the doctor to her bedroom. His eyes, shy but glinting, gave the room a once over.
“I’m just a medical student, but I hope that . . . “
She smiled. “Everyone has had to learn sometime, even Purkyně.”
“Yes, even Purkyně, you’re quite right. I’m fairly well-acquainted with Central European medical methods and procedures, but not with those alone. I’ve travelled in the Orient, where I learned lots of things; I discovered their methods.
At this point, von Päumann skipped a few pages, then went on reading:
“Do you know” the doctor said unexpectedly, in a changed voice, as he put away his medical instruments in his case and she buttoned up her blouse, “you once asked me about my travels. Deep down, I don’t really believe in travel as a way of discovering things. Do you follow me?”
When Herr von Päumann finished reading, he smiled. He didn’t quite believe it all. To the contrary, he was convinced that Fräulein Zaleski, with that sick mind of hers, had invented a great deal of it or rather, had made it all up. But as he now had the story in his hands, Herr von Päumann selected the most believable extracts for police use with a view to demonstrating the moral degradation of the writer Božena Němcová. Not long afterward, the abridged version of the story that Vítězka had written started to circulate by word of mouth among the most notorious gossips of Prague, and confirmed the rumors with which Božena’s “friends” had justified their distance from her, thus leaving their consciences clear.
Then the prefect of Prague picked up the little envelope, which contained a single sheet of paper. He read:
Antonia Zaleski to the Illustrious Prefect of Prague, Herr
Anton von Päumann.
May 1855
Most Illustrious Prefect,
Given that you can now dispense with my services, as you put it on the occasion of our last appointment, I consider that my most sacred obligation is now to inform you about the meeting between Božena Němcová and the Czech writer and journalist Karel Havlíček, an object of police concern.
As you know, the police released him from his confinement in the Tyrol and just recently that feared revolutionary and fighter for the rights of the Czechs and the Czech language has shown up in Prague. All his friends avoid him and when they see him they cross over to the other side of the road so as not to run into him. They fear him, knowing he is an outlaw. A few days ago, Božena Němcová was walking along Avenue Na Příkopě and spotted Havlíček there. Pleased, she ran over to him and gave him a most cordial welcome. She was the only one to do so. He warned her not to appear in public with an exile and outlaw such as himself, but Božena made a gesture indicating that none of that was of any importance whatsoever and said, laughing: “Come on! I don’t give a hoot what the government says or does!”
Most sincere greetings,
Vítězka Paul
(previously Antonia Zaleski)
Vítězka Paul died in May of 1856 at the age of twenty-four. Božena Němcová went to her funeral, and afterwards wrote to her son: “Vítězka’s death fills me with pain; she was truly a noble girl.”
Božena Němcová died in January of 1862, not long before her forty-second