Page:Poet Lore, volume 36, 1925.pdf/371

 Courtier.—He must be punished.

Princess.—As he deserves. However, I defer the decision. I am tired. (Leaves through the left entrance.)

Magistrate.—I am most unhappy, Your Honor. Everything was so short and helter-skelter.

Courtier.—That very thing was pleasing to Her Grace. But I wanted to ask—

Zajíček and the musicians (Enter sorrowfully).—We beg pardon.

Magistrate (Curtly).—What is it you want now?

Zajíček.—If you please, the concert, if Her Grace would be so kind—

Magistrate.—It is impossible.

Courtier.—Her Grace is extremely weary.

Zajíček.—And please sir, when could we—

Magistrate.—I do not know. And now, go!

and the musicians leave.

Magistrate (Sweetly).—You desired to ask—

Courtier.—O, yes. Is that miller a sturdy fellow?

Magistrate.—A sturdy, fine fellow, but—

Courtier.—A dangerous rebel. (An uproar from without.) What is that?

Magistrate.—I can’t imagine what it can be. (Is about to approach the window.)

Magistrate.—What is the trouble?

Franc (Frightened).—If you please, sir, I ordered Votruba to be jailed, but when the bailiff laid his hands on him, the justices of the peace began grumbling, threatening, and rebelling.

Magistrate.—What! Now, here, a rebellion at this festive time!