Page:Poet Lore, volume 36, 1925.pdf/341

 Grandmother (Enters from the living room, a little old woman of eighty years, with white hair).—What is it, my boy, what is it?

Miller.—I should like you to explain this to me. I am adding to this chronicle here, that old prophecy as you relate it; I am putting it down, that it may be forever remembered. I was writing (he looks at the book as if quoting what he has written) of that war, when the northern nation will sweep down upon our land. And now—(he glances toward ). Grandmother, what next: what does the Sybil prophesy?

Grandmother.—That it will be a terrible war. (She stares, rapt in thought, and speaks earnestly, though without the pathos of prophecy. The writes.)

Grandmother.—A terrible war, when blood will flow through the cradles, when old and young alike, and above all the common people, will regret living in the world. But, when the worst comes, say the Sybil and the Blind Youth, God will show mercy. Then the armies will station themselves between Blaník and Načeradec; and there the fight will begin. [sic] The battle will wage twelve days; on the thirteenth, an army will come to the rescue; it will be led by St. Václav, who will ride a white horse. (She pauses a moment, then bending toward the, who is still writing, she says more quietly) Write it down, write it, so that anyone reading it in anguish may be comforted. (She waits.)

Miller (Writes; then stops).—So—

Grandmother.—Anything else?

Miller.—For the present, this is all, Grandmother; just this, concerning that war.

Grandmother (With a smile).—Just as you wish, just as you wish. So, now I can go back to my work. (Returns to the living room.)

reviews what he has written, and turns the pages.

enters from the hall.

Braha (Enters at same time from the mill, wearing a leather apron).—For whom are you looking?