Page:Poet Lore, volume 26, 1915.djvu/302

 Sylvia.—Good-bye, Master Jeroným, we must go into the castle. (Extends her hand.)

Jeroným.—Gracious Countess.

Christine.—Good-bye, dear Master Jeroným. I would address you otherwise but Sylvia is so serious that I dare not be naughty. So I’ll only say, “Good-bye, dear, handsome Master Jeroným.” (Laughing merrily she hastens after .)

Jeroným. (Alone, gazing after .) Mysterious being—I wonder if I shall ever know whether the glances of your eyes indeed speak the language which I would long to hear! I dare not approach, I dare not even express the belief that one of those glances, perhaps, belongs to me. Just one word, one single word, one instant of fervency and I would be happy in that thought my whole life-time! (Departs, going past the castle from which at the other side come director, lackeys and servants, carrying tables, chairs, pitchers, etc., into the park.)

Karmín.—Put the table, benches and chairs in this place also and prepare plenty of everything. The Earl desires that this year’s harvest festival be celebrated far and wide.

Secretary.—But, begging your pardon, most high-born director, it does seem a little needless to cater so to this peasant folk. The Earl treats them as if they were butter. It’ll take the very devil himself after this, to drive the rascals to work.

Karmín.—That’s the Earl’s old-fashioned system of management to treat these fellows almost as if they were his equals. Whoever heard of the nobility arranging such a celebration for their subjects as is done here? It’s a wonder the Earl himself doesn’t serve this rabble at table.

Secretary.—The scourging whip for them instead of a celebration. ( enters from right side.)

Jiřík.—So, noble sir, we are ready. There are tables everywhere over the meadow and way up here to the very castle. Now, those churls can come and sit and feast until the tables