Page:Poet Lore, volume 35, 1924.pdf/368

 Lewi.—I might say that I will grant that commission to your worthiness, but loan is a better-sounding word.

Jaroslav.—Good! But now keep your tongue behind your teeth. You will find me in my room. (Makes his exit to the right.)

Dr. Svoboda (Coming forward).—Mr. Lewi, at just this moment, I cannot find a guarantor but—

Lewi.—Then I must express my deep regrets. New terms I cannot make you, and the notes cannot be prolonged. Command me. (Walks off to the right.)

Dr. Svoboda.—He will not extend the notes! That means their protest, an executioner’s sale of my estate (Looking about him.) They will come here to attach my property  they will bring appraisors with them  everything will be sold  strange unclean hands will scatter about my most sacred relics,  they will display for sale, with pity or scorn, my furnishings, dishes, relics, my clothes,—all, all that I still can call my own! (Holding his head between his hands) I cannot bear it that would be unendurable!

Broz.—Compose yourself, my dear doctor! That must not happen.

Dr. Svoboda.—Must not! No, of course it must not! But where do you see any source of help?

Broz.—I will speak once more with Lewi.

Dr. Svoboda.—And if he still refuses?

Broz.—Then it will be necessary to turn to Prague.

Dr. Svoboda.—What can be gained there? My friends in Prague have difficulty enough in raising money to buy up estates only when it seems to be imperative to fortify our position. And to ask them to sign my notes or make a loan,—it would be a fraud! I do not know how I could pay back the debt! (Sinking into a chair.) How terribly my improvidence is avenging itself upon me in these days. If I had but thatched my own roof more securely, I could now be standing erect upon my feet, under obligations to no one, a stanch proclaimor of my own convictions. And what am I today?