The Journey by Edna Worthley Underwood

SVATOPLUK ČECH _(1846-) is the successor in both prose and verse of / Neruda and like him he is greater as a poet than as a prose writer, and / like him, too, he has tried his hand at every variety and style of / writing._ / _Among his books of verse are -- "The Smith of Lešetin," "In Shadow of the / Linden"; many delightful ballades -- such as "The Lark" -- have been written / by him._ / _We include perhaps his best short story -- "The Journey. " None of the / verse of Čech has appeared in English. Of his prose we know of only one / other translated story._[3]

[3] ČECH (Svatopluk). "_The Exchange._" See Underwood, Edna Worthley. ("Famous Stories From Foreign Countries. ")

Proud Odessa disappeared in the distance. It was the first time that my / eyes had beheld only sky and water. The circle of the sea rolled in / splendor on all sides, and nothing disturbed the first overpowering / impression. Peculiar emotions arose within me, as I gave myself over to / this spectacle. The dimensions of the sea exalted my spirit, and at the / same time oppressed it. At sight of the measureless horizon my chest / expanded in blessed sensations of freedom.

Today the usually treacherous Black Sea was gentle. The waves rolled / themselves calmly and regularly to their mountainous curves, and then / spread out in white, gleaming foam. Sometimes the color was green, / sometimes blue, but in the distance it was always black. Sometimes great / white sea mews settled down upon the curving waves, moving their wings / as if in rhythm with the water. Sometimes arrow swift a dolphin leaped / over the surface.

A long time I stood motionless there, absorbed in the strangeness of / this unknown picture. Then I looked up to the complex rigging above me; / at length my eyes took in the space between, where the third class / passengers were gathered in gay disorder. This quarter on ships that ply / the shore of the Black Sea, is a veritable ethnographical display. On / two sides of this covered lower deck there extended -- just as in the / people's room in a mill -- high benches, upon which reclined a strange / assortment of men and women of different races and religions. Upon a / faded rug here sits, with his legs crossed, a grave mussulman; his face / expresses peace and happiness. He has procured space enough in which to / enjoy himself, to place his _nargileh_ and his yellow slippers with the / curving toes. Some tall fellows whose faces do not arouse confidence, / lie restlessly beside him. Upon their black, unkempt hair one sees the / red fez. They wore brown jackets edged with black braid; brown, galloon / trousers, wide at the hips and tapering narrower. At the waist they are / held by a sash. From the sash shine the long handles of pistols. They / are Greeks. There, gleam the kindly eyes of an honest Russian peasant; / he has blond hair and a blond beard, in caftan and flat cap; beside him, / in picturesque pose leans an old time _commis -- voyageur_, a dandy from / Odessa, who expresses his superiority to his neighbors by whistling an / aria from an opera. Over there is a rich Walachian family who are / emigrating to the Caucasus. They are sunburned, dirty and disheveled, / and yet they form an interesting group. The Walachian mother has all the / dignity of the mother of the Gracchi. There is a tall Persian, with long / smooth face and tall black cap; a crafty Armenian, a priest from Georgia / in a long robe. This gayly assorted crowd sit side by side, chew garlic, / count the beads of giant rosaries, talk and quarrel in various / languages, and spread about an odor that rises to the upper deck.

They fitted well -- these people -- within the frame of this Eastern Sea, / which was now lighted by the fiery rays of the sun. I enjoyed less the / travelers upon the upper deck; here yawned the stupidity and stiffness / of European society. A distinguished Englishman of the usual type, a / French Governess, some Russian officers, a few emancipated Russian / women, smoking their inevitable cigarettes. A stuck-up Greek who had / tasted the civilization of the west, who was reading the Odyssey with a / new Greek accent, and a German professor who was promenading for his / health. The outward appearance of this professor was diametrically / opposed to the visions of the fabulous old world of the East, which the / turbans in Odessa call up.

How out of place against the background of this measureless sea was this / thin, dried-up figure, in the long, carefully buttoned coat, a green / umbrella under one arm, huge gold spectacles on the nose, and a spy / glass in a worn case, hanging from one shoulder. The first time my eyes / rested on this figure I wished the Black Sea would rise and swallow him / and his pedantry. But now when the brilliantly colored pictures of the / Orient had somewhat faded from my memory, I must confess that in those / days I cherished a sort of hatred for all of that Western Europe from / which the German professor came.