Page:Poet Lore, volume 34, 1923.djvu/37

 enough for weeping later—now, heart, beat only joy and hope.

(She goes out. and  approach from the other side.)

Runa.—There she flees! She saw us from afar and is avoiding us.

Stojmír.—Thou art too hard and severe, wife; thou dost wrong to Mahulena, believe me.

Runa.—That child I could never truly love.

Stojmír.—That is perhaps because her birth almost cost thee thy life

Runa.—In giving her birth I lost my beauty and my youth; yet they say that mothers love such a child most of all. So that is not the cause. But even while I carried her in the womb it already seemed to me that I carried my future grief, that within me ripened that which would grieve me; and my heart did not tremble with joy when I awaited this new life, but with a kind of uncertain fear that there would be brought into the world that which I should at some day curse!

Stojmír.—No, Runa, thou deceivest thyself; thou didst await a son, and therefore didst not welcome Mahulena with joy.

Runa.—Well, be that as it may, but this I tell thee, that Mahulena is not a child of mine as is Prija or Ziva. She is not of my blood. Hast thou ever seen her flame up with defiance even when her sisters tortured her?

Stojmír.—She is meek and gentle.

Runa.—Finish thy speech: as she of whom thou hast dreamed all thy life and whom thou didst love before our marriage.

Stojmír.—Runa, what is this thou sayest?

Runa.—Only that which is clear to me. But let that pass. I tell thee that a dream has warned me. I fancied that I clasped to my heart a child, quiet, with meek eyes like those of Mahulena, and with a shriek I awoke in horror, for the child had bitten me like a serpent with teeth sharp as needles, deep unto the heart! Ah, I still feel it and a chill runs through my body.

Stojmír.—That was an evil dream, but why dost thou interpret it that Mahulena herself must be that serpent?

Runa.—Because I know what goes on within her! I tell thee this plainly. Dost thou not see how she wastes away in grief? Dost thou not see her pallor and how at times she blushes without cause? Her long sighs, deep and quiet! And since when do I observe all this? Since the month when Prince Radúz became our captive. Does that not suffice thee,