Page:Poet Lore, volume 36, 1925.pdf/343

 Bailiff (Haughtily, to ).—What are you talking about? You keep still!

Braha.—I? I’d like you to understand that I, too, have something to say here. Hanička is mine, at least in part. I found her, I’d have you know, when I came back from war, from that terrible war; and I was in the firing line, too, and not behind a stove, like some one I know, and I was wounded, if you would like to know, you bringer of orders! Toward evening I was hobbling along, and there I found her in the open field, in a ditch near the road. It was autumn, at dusk, after a rain. It was chilly, clouds were drifting, and the wind whizzed so that it fairly blew my cloak off. And that baby girl lay in the ditch, shaking and shivering with cold. All had deserted her. The nobility rode by, the generals, captains, and the conquering army, and did nothing. They just pointed to her and even snickered. The foreign plague! And our people passed by, fled, prayed, and cried, and because of weeping, even because their very praying, failed to see her; they left her there and so I took her up; I could scarcely drag myself along, I picked her up like a little bird when a storm throws it out of its nest.

Miller.—Braha, why do you tell him all this?

Braha.—So he may understand that I have a claim to her, I—I—

Miller (To the ).—I have already said—

Bailiff.—So, shall I tell this to the magistrate? And this order—

Miller (Ignoring him, turns to ).—How is the repairing getting along?

Braha.—I just came to speak of that.

Bailiff (Interrupting).—Well then, miller

Miller (With his back toward him, talking to ).—Will the wheel turn?

Braha.—Everything is as it should be; it will turn.

Bailiff (Louder).—Well then—

Miller (Ignoring him).—Braha, I’ll go with you to the mill.

Bailiff.—How about me? How about the order? (In a passion, threateningly).—But we still have the lantern, and when an order arrives concerning that lantern, then you will change your mind; you will obey, and obey well, like any tenant. That you will! (He leaves hurriedly.)

Braha (Shakes his fist after him).—O, you bringer of orders, you pest, brought in by the fog—