LETTERS OF A JAVANESE PRINCESS
The baboe on the shore grew frightened, we could no longer understand her, but she ran up and down like a mad woman, waving her arms and calling us back. We only laughed at her distress. In the distance, she saw our heads sway around as we danced, and our voices sounded over the water, raised in a merry little song.
When we went back to the house, we took with us a lively feeling of hunger, you may be sure. After we had eaten ravenously, Annie sat down to the piano. Out of the fullness of her heart, she played a "Danklied" and we sang with her. It was as though we had grown half elf. Now quickly to work. In the back gallery our sewing stood ready; we sat at one table and worked busily, but it was not only the fingers that hurried along, our tongues were not idle and we were chattering and laughing and singing. In the twinkling of an eye, the time had gone by, and we must sit again at the table. At mid-day we took a little walk and wandered back to the shore.
After our walk, if it is not too dark, we usually drink tea in the garden, among he shrubs and flowers, and under the blue sky, where after awhile, a few stars and the pale gold moon come out. When we go in, we have music or we read together. When Annie plays the piano, we sit by her, and sew or write, for it is a delight to be able to work while there is music ; the work goes so easily.
Cooking is also on our program. We practise that every day after the rice meal.
You and your husband must come to see us and rest here from that oppressive Batavia. Can you not come now? We shall expect you. Then you can amuse yourselves with our kind of life, which is so restful, so still, so quiet and so peaceful. We will take care of you and we shall have the help of the wind and the sea ; and of the birds that greet us every morning with their songs.
—160—
