Chapter XXVIII
At Seven Cottages
And while the world shook with the clash of armies, while the boundaries of States writhed to and fro like earth-worms, and the whole earth was crumbling into a field of ruins, old Mrs. Blahous was peeling her potatoes in Seven Cottages, Grandfather Blahous was sitting on the doorstep smoking beech-leaves, and their neighbour, Mrs. Prouzova, was leaning on the fence, repeating meditatively, "Yes, yes."
"Aye, yes," returned Blahous after a while.
"My word, yes," observed Mrs. Blahous.
"That's how 'tis," Mrs. Prouzova answered.
"Oh, what's the use?" said Grandfather Blahous.
"Yes, that's it," added Mrs. Blahous, peeling another potato.
"They say the Italians got a good hiding," Blahous announced.
"Who from?"
"From the Turks, I expect."
"Then, I suppose that'll be the end of the war?"
"What d'you mean? The Prussians 'll start off now."
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