myself have reaped—what does the daring creature reproach me with? When did I instigate him to betray me, to betray his father?—But, to be sure—I did often tell him—very often—that he must become a greater gentleman than I—that he must be like those at the castle—Just heaven, can it be that I led him to become what he is, that I myself am the cause of his treachery? All powerful God, preserve my senses, or my wits will leave me. (Kyral steps out and listens.)—But no matter what was before, even though I myself wandered not knowing the right—now I have learned the truth and I commanded him to come back to me and to his own people. But he defiantly, treacherously remained there and the punishment which over took him is righteous before God himself.
Scene V
The Preceding. Kyral.
Kyral (Advances).—What is it, neighbor, what do you babble here?
Výrava (Frightened).—What?—Who? Kyral
Kyral.—Your son,—your beloved Jeroným—stayed at the castle?
Výrava.—Yes, he stayed.
Kyral.—And old Výrava is overwhelmed by it and it appears he begins to lose his healthy common sense Ha! ha! ha! Finally God has also turned his thought to Výrava—to his pride, haughtiness and arrogance.
Výrava (Violently).—Kyral, you dare again to mock at me?
Kyral.—Not to mock at you, but to laugh, laugh, with my whole soul I want to laugh that at last I see you so humiliated.
Výrava.—Oh, mockery and again mockery!
Kyral.—I seek Výrava that we may at last attack the castle. I think that I’ll meet him somewhere returning triumphantly like a king with his prince Jeroným. And behold, the swift-prospering son scorns the father and remains at the castle near the flesh pots and gentlemen’s cakes—and his father stands here like a moulting rooster whom the chickens have robbed of all the bread!
Výrava.—Kyral, I forbid you— I beg you
Kyral.—And everywhere throughout the district it was only Výrava—no one was ever mentioned but he—just as though the rest of us were not on earth.
