Page:Poet Lore, volume 27, 1916.djvu/399

 ''up the scene. On the highway the clatter of the passing cannon is growing less and is disappearing toward Jaromer. It’s the last remnant of the Austrian army. Now the handful of this Czech contingent are definitely cut off from the main body of the army. The door which had slammed during the squabble with  opens now and through this enters  supporting the wounded'' . All the soldiers turn to them and silently watch the entering pair.)

Svacha.—We were sitting outside the wall—we heard you—(Pointing after the disappearing battery.) We could not follow them any longer—you’ll allow us to stay won’t you?

Vonka.—No!

Svacha (Surprised).—I heard voices and it was just yours I guess—(Quietly.) My chum is wounded—you won’t be hard and deny a wounded soldier the right to rest among his own?

Vonka.—It’s impossible—there’s a village nearby—go over there.

Svacha (After a moment).—I heard you all—yea—I even understood what you were saying—my friend is seriously wounded—and my life does not count—you won’t compel him to struggle on or to lie and suffer in some open field—I am sure you will have pity on him.

( exhausted—seriously wounded; is hardly able to stand—he sighs.)

Svacha (On whose shoulders he is supported, makes a few steps as though he were looking for a place where could be set down—but the soldiers are indifferent to them and silent).—You would not have the heart!

Vichodil (Turning to ).—Perhaps it will not turn out as badly as you think, my friend; it might all turn out all right. But if it does not, well, one of them is wounded. (To .) Let him lie down here—has anyone something for his head? (There is no answer.) Something to put under his head, who has something?

Spravil (Has taken off his knapsack).—Here you are

Levinsky.—There.

Vichodil.—Give it to him—(The wounded man is laid on the ground.)

Svacha.—Are you resting well?—Are you resting, well Jean?

Suk.—Drink

Svacha.—Something to drink—I put a wet handkerchief to