Page:Poet Lore, volume 36, 1925.pdf/397

 Sejtko.—He didn’t get him.

Zima.—Sh-sh-sh—

Zajíček (Comforted).—It is he!

Klásek.—O Lord, is it you, Zima, you, Mr. Schoolmaster, (threateningly at ) and you, chatterbox!

Zima.—Sh-sh-sh—silence, and better get out of here as quickly as you can. (Leaves toward the left.)

Zajíček.—Come, come. (Follows .)

Sejtko.—Klásek, did you think of mama when—

Klásek (Suddenly).—O, the devil take you!

(Leaves hurriedly on the left.)

Sejtko (Follows him).—Papa, papa!

Míchal (Enters from right; cane in one hand, an unlighted lantern in the other; ribbons around his neck and across his chest. Stops a short distance from the linden tree, examines his boots).—O boots, little boots, windy boots, a hundred steps in one; nicely you carry me o’er meadow and dale, o’er level walks too; no track, no road, no hoof marks, no footprints. For the huntsmen I have already waited and watched, and now at the water here (points to the swamp) will I wait and watch. Here will my sunbeam hasten; here will I wait and watch. (A cloud overshadows the moon; it becomes dark.) Mikel, Mikel, brighten well! (Breathes into the lantern, which immediately flames up.) Burn, little flame! (Suddenly turns forward to left foreground, listens, then quickly covers the light in the lantern and seats himself in the shadow under the linden.)

Franc (From the left foreground behind the scenes, in the forest). So you are a bailiff, an old soldier?