Page:Poet Lore, volume 27, 1916.djvu/89

 Bozena (Simultaneously).—Glory!

Vaniček (On the floor).—Good luck! (Noisily thrums on the guitar.)

Bukač (Enters, very much excited).—Is Hlaváček at home?

Šimr.—No.

Bukač (Quickly).—Don’t you know anything?

Šimr.—What?

Bukač.—Dušek shot himself.

Bozena.—Jesus, Mary! (Jumps from the table.)

Réza (At the same time).—Holy Virgin Mary! (Drops the azaleas.)

Šimr, Vaniček, Paroubek and Malina (all at once).—What! Dušek? How? Where? (They surround .)

Bukač.—He shot himself just now in his studio. (Breathing deeply with weariness.) They telephoned us from the Aid station—(In the front hall the door bangs.) I came running here for Hlaváček—I need some facts for the obituary.

Hlaváček (Bursts into the studio, rushes directly to the little table, opens the drawer and feels inside, then cries out).—With my revolver! That’s why he came here! (All completely horrified.)