Page:Poet Lore, volume 35, 1924.pdf/382

Anezka.—Father, my dear father, I have so grievously hurt you!

Dr. Svoboda.—You followed the prompting of truth, of your deepest innermost convictions! You have been true to my teachings. Only, will you not be disappointed now, in Prokop?

Anezka.—I will not! I know he will not disappoint me!

Dr. Svoboda.—Be it as it may—I must tell Prokop everything. (With a sigh.) I wish with all my heart that your sun may soon rise upon a happier day for you while mine is going down.

Anezka.—Father!

Dr. Svoboda.—And now take your stand by me, my child, and never permit this clear brow of yours to become clouded by shame! Neither must you give way to those who will try to overcome your every objection to gain their desires for their own advantage. (Enter Broz.)

Broz (Deeply agitated).—Doctor! (Sees Anezka.) I beg you, excuse this intrusion . . .

Dr. Svoboda.—What has happened?

Broz.—The manager sends the report by a special courier that the flood gates at the brook are torn down! The water is rushing into the fields and destroying the last of the harvest!

(Anezka rises to leave in deep agitation.)

Dr. Svoboda (In desperation).—Well, then, let it carry away everything, and first of all, my own wretched life! (Enter Klementina.) I am now prepared for any misfortune. Have my horse saddled. I will start immediately.

(Broz makes his exit to the right.)

Klementina (Seriously).—You have heard of the flood?

Dr. Svoboda.—Yes.

Klementina.—And you are still composed?

Dr. Svoboda.—As composed as a man overwhelmed by a train of misfortunes can be.