Petrova.—And even for thine—(Makes a cross on Kloc’s forehead.)
Spravil.—And mine too
Petrova.—Yes, and thine. (She goes over to the others)—and thine—and thine—and for thine—(Now she has finished) and for all of ours at home—and those whom we are shielding—the whole of our country—may the Lord bless ye—Good-bye soldiers—(goes.)
Vonka.—Let’s lie down and rest until dawn and then we’ll all rise—get your guns ready—now be quiet all and sleep
Svacha.—Who will be the sentry—
Vonka.—We are all sentinels—our country’s sentinels. (The soldiers silently are lying down—pauses.)
Levinsky.—I am going off too—I can’t stand it here—Good bye. (He tarries still a moment but does not notice Soukup who was half-lying on the ground but now jumps up and seizes a gun.)
Levinsky.—I do not feel the way you do. (Goes off.)
(He has barely left when Soukup follows him and a second later a shot is heard on the highway. The soldiers silently follow the sound of the shot with a motion of the head. Soukup presently returns bringing in two guns. He sits down and silently loads both weapons; then he edges near the other and lies down. Havlin was standing near the gate prepared to escape. As the shot is fired his face shows what a blow it is to him he slides down and dejectedly sits in the grass against the wall and gazes into space.) (There is a long pause.) (All the other soldiers are lying on the ground and attempting sleep. For a long time the impatient moving about and forced efforts to sleep are audible—then again a compelled silence—loud breathing, sighing—feverish rest—at times a snatched word can be discerned—the real sleep is slow in coming. Finally, it is apparent that they will sleep although their slumber is disturbed. Havlin remains motionless. He gazes into space, murmurs a few words and then is silent again. The moonlight is dying away and the bright summer night is rapidly changing into the greyness of an early dawn. The grave-yard now assumes a different aspect. The haggard faces of the soldiers show their dishevled condition, on their uniforms the mud and stains predominate, in the daylight the grotesque side of the scene is apparent. The only familiar sight is the usual friendly approach of a summer morning.
It is the dawn of the twenty-ninth of June, 1866. The victorious Prussian hordes will now move onward. In the distance, hardly audible at first but increasing in nearness and volume, comes the
