Page:Poet Lore, volume 26, 1915.djvu/349

 promised that he’d run away and join us. Your father boasted of it. But Jeroným did not come. And so your father set out a second time to bring him, and has not yet returned.

Václav.—God protect him! A shot was fired at the castle!

Kyral.—And we haven’t time to stir. The devil has taken one noble hanger on. If he doesn’t want to join us, there are hundreds in his place. But now we must not delay longer. Who knows what will come from Ples or Hradec and by that time we must be in charge of the castle. Come let’s look for your father, there is no more need of a guard here.

Václav.—I will go, I will go. I will creep up through the park to the castle to see whether some misfortune befell him.

Kyral.—And I’ll go in this direction. (Motions to peasants.) You go that way! (All depart. From the right side comes .)

Výrava (With his hair hanging loosely, leans upon his gun; sighs as he slowly staggers towards stump of a tree under a willow near the pond).—He is dead; I aimed well as I would at a gledekite which would peck my eyes out.—It was a good shot.—Its wing broke, it fell and buried its beak in the earth. He is dead and will not betray his father, will not expose him to mockery. My deed will spread horror, and horror will now be necessary—though the archer need not fall with the glede. (Sinks down on the stump under the willow near the pond.) I loved him so. On him I placed all my hopes. He was my pride, a hundred lives I would have given for him—for him I have forgotten my own blood and have treated my other son like a mere hireling, and thus he has rewarded me!

(Bětuška enters.)

Bětuška (Surprised).—Uncle Výrava!

Výrava.—Who calls me?