Page:The Czechoslovak Review, vol4, 1920.pdf/51

 ficer and talked with him, and both of them looked toward the turnpike. A terrible moment! The count had sent out a special courier that he might properly ascertain the state of affairs. The courier had not retuned, and perhaps the count would grow impatient and would give the command to march.

Oh, that God would grant that the courier bring a favorable message! Mr. Roubínek sighed and turned his eyes toward his family. Then, sweating and breathless, the courier rushed in—reported something to the count, who questioned him further. All eyes were concentrated on the group—Mr. Roubínek hardly breathed. Then, the count turned to the guard and announced that he had received definite, trustworthy information: a revolution had broken out in Prague, and a terrible upheaval had followed. (Mr. Roubínek lost all hope. They would go! They would!)—But the people had seized weapons and were fighting against the Imperial troops, and against those troops he would lend no aid; therefore, the guardsmen should resume their work and calling.

This was so unexpected that Mr. Roubínek could hardly comprehend it all. So many sudden upheavals and changes, that he could not give a proper outlet to his joy. He was the first to leave the line, and forgetting his dignified step, he hastened to his wife and daughter. On the steps he snatched off his cap and tore off his sword.

Then, tired and exhausted, he dropped into his easy chair, and spoke but little.

The night of the fourteenth of June, the soldiers secretly left Prague and ocupiedoccupied [sic] Hradčany. The next day prince Windischgraetz proclaimed martial law in Prague. The people undertook the unequal struggle. The Small Quarter was fired upon from the Old Town, and the soledirssoldiers [sic] answered with bomb-shells.

In the struggling mass both Vavřena and Frýbort fought, although separated from each other; Vavřena stood among a crowd of students and fired.

“Here, friends, here!” a mighty voice shouted behind him. When Vavřena turned, he saw a tall monk, with pale homely face but whose eyes burned with enthusiasm. In his left hand he grasped a still smoking gun, and with his right hand pointed to the threatened position.

“Špínal” cried Vavřena, running toward his former colleague.

“Vojta! Welcome! But here, here, follow me, here!”

All crowded where they were led by the fighting monk, who was loading his gun again. Vavřena took his stand beside him. The shots again began to whistle, the bombs whizzed and crashed, the din of battle boomed all around; from here and there came sounds of groaning and the moans of dying men. There was no time for long conversation or questions. Vavřena only heard Špína asking:

“Is Frýbort here also?”

“He is.”

Just then a bomb exploded near by, and the pieces flew all around; when the fire and smoke cleared away, a few of the young warriors lay on the pavement.

Vavřena, escaping all danger, looked around for Špína. He was lying near by. Vavřena immediately kneeled beside him, and lifted him up. He was deadly pale, and his robe was reddened on the breast by the warm blood. With the help of another student, Vavřena bore the mortally wounded comrade to a place sheltered from the enemy fire.

When the young monk received medical attention and regained consciousness, he spoke with difficulty to Vavřena:

“Go back to the fight, go! If you return to Litomyšl, give my regards to—you know—.” Then he ceased talking. Vavřena did not obey to the letter, but remained a while longer. And he did well.

Thus, at least in his last moments, there stood by the dying “deserted orphan” a friend, who sincerely mourned over the unfortunate monk.

This was on the fifteenth of June. The day after an honorable capitulation was arranged for; but then a shot from the mills was fired on the soldiers and Windischgraetz renewed the bombardment. During this engagement the Old Town mills and the waterworks were burned down.

On the seventeenth of June, Prague capitulated. The army entered the town, and wholesale persecution began.

Before Prague capitulated and matters came to these sad ends, the Litomyšl contingent returned home.

Miss Elis circumspectly inquired about her students, if perhaps someone had not seen them in Prague; but nobody could give her any information. The philosophers were not with them; undoubtedly they were on the barricades, and there either fell or were arrested and arraigned before the court martial.

Lenka seemed not to have a drop of blood in her face; she was sad and always lost in thought. She had no one to whom she could complain or unburden herself. She was not permitted to visit Miss Elis, for since her uncle fell sick, she could hardly leave the house. She had to do the most of the waiting upon Mr. Roubínek and her household duties were not lightened. Neither the aunt nor Lotty could say that she complained by a single word, or that she even as much as sighed before them.

Of course, her dark room did not reveal the tears which she shed, and did not tell how in the long night hours it heard the silent, pain-