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JAN VÝRAVA

Výrava.—I am depending on you, I place my entire trust in you, in you I am strong—without you I am a mere reed. Jeroným, heed me! The name of Výrava—my name and your name—is esteemed in the entire district and I have accustomed myself to the thought that through you my name shall be further exalted. When all the people are rising against tyranny, we Výravas must stand at the head and no one else but we. But without you my power would fail. With you I am granite, without you, slate—without you I would stand among my own not like Výrava but like a mere shadow.

Jeroným.—And even if everything can change because of my action, I cannot go away with you, father. You should rather thank God that I am on the side of the nobility and that I shall be able to save you from the destruction which will surely meet the other plotters of the uprising.

Výrava.—You wish to protect me, you wish to show me a kindness? How unreasonably, how childishly you speak, my son! Where Výrava undertakes anything, there he also accomplishes his design and asks no mercy. Tomorrow, I will give commands in this castle, tomorrow I will announce from here the abolition of feudalism and we will send messengers to the district government and even to the Emperor in Vienna that by force we carried out his will which the nobility wished to thwart.

Jeroným (In thought).—Horrible moment!

Výrava.—Well, my son, do you still wish to hesitate?

Jeroným.—Forgive me, father—but I implore you—do not ask me to do your will, do not ask that I should become a base traitor to all those who had confidence in me.

Výrava (Violently).—Oh, indeed—I no longer ask anything of you, but I command you to obey instantly. God punish me, but if you would oppose me . . . (With a convulsive movement, lifts his gun.)

Jeroným.—Yes, I choose death.

Výrava (Having mastered himself).— —then, then I shall curse you, my son, with the most terrible of curses and God of whom I begged your very birth, that God must condemn you at my word——

Jeroným.—For God’s sake—stop!

Výrava.—He must condemn you—here and even after death. For even though broken, destroyed, still I will go into battle and I shall stand in the front ranks of those at whom you