Page:Poet Lore, volume 36, 1925.pdf/345



Braha.—Sire, take great care of Hanička!

Miller.—Why! Because of what the magistrate has ordered?

Braha.—No, but to guard against the water sprite. He is continually pacing around here, continually, the whole night long. The foreman in the mill also mentioned it; he roams around every night and does nothing but watch Hanička. He sighs, groans, begs, cries. Last night he wept the whole night long.

Miller.—Foolish fears!

Braha.—He will seek revenge on you, in the mill—

Miller.—That is why I must rid the place of him.

Braha.—Give me a bast rope, I’ll watch for the pest myself; you see, he comes for Hanička. And when I catch him, I’ll tie him here to the stove, so that he will dry out finely, and I’ll beat him so that he’ll soon grow tame and do anything.

Miller (Smiling).—In a dry place, without a drop, means to lose strength. You know that too, Braha, don’t you. Come! (Enters the mill.)

Braha.—Go ahead and laugh! Take care that you don’t feel sorry for this. (Follows the .)

Hanička (Singing in the hall).—

(Enters through the open door, singing more softly. Slips off her wooden shoes at the threshold and leaves them at the door. Her apron is filled with flowers and herbs.)

(She stops, looks about, spies the open chronicle, hurries toward it, looks into it, then drops the flowers from her apron on the little bench by the stove, gathers a bunch of thyme and places sprays of it between several pages of the chronicle.)

There, the thyme goes nicely with the chronicle.