Subdued.) Sleep, Magyar—you were fighting for a strange country—with your “Eljen” “Czaczar” you fought bravely.
Vichodil.—They are brave men. (It’s quiet now, they should have parted but they are attracted by something.)
Vonka.—I am calling you Moravian. I don’t know your name.
Vichodil.—Martin Vichodil.
Vonka.—From the country.
Vichodil.—Yes.
Vonka.—I am from Prague. (After a moment.) Rosenzweig, my dear Vichodil, is silent now. The artillery will soon pass by. It is night. The enemy will rest tonight and advance early in the morning. (Suddenly.) These in here, at least most of them—! Attention! Hist. (Strange sound without.) (Carefully and stealthfully he goes to the wall to gaze over. The noise now becomes more distinct. It is the sound of horses’ hoofs on the road toward Skalitz. Levinsky raised his head “What is it?” but Vonka silenced him, “Quiet,” he adds, however, in a moment.)
Vonka.—Riderless horses of our troops running amuck. They are gathered into a group and gallop aimlessly. (Suddenly, without changing his tone.) Comrades, listen. Here are a lot of horses without men. Something frightened them and they are running about. But they’ll quiet down soon, stop and graze in the field. Rosenzweig’s batteries are still between us and the Prussians, but that protection will soon be gone. We don’t know what we are waiting for. Let’s go and catch a horse and follow the army. (No answer.)
Vonka (Continues intently).—I am talking for a purpose and you can hear me. I say those of you who hear how useless it is to remain here, get up and go.
Levinsky.—You go first.
Vonka (Excited).—I’ll remain. You go ahead, you who don’t feel for what reasons you were called.
Levinsky.—Coward and fool.
Soukup (Angrily).—Shut up! (Commotion, everyone rises except—)
Kloc (Who for the past few moments has been in a deep dream and was nervously shuddering, kicking about and sobbing—in his dream).—Get behind that wagon—Jump—Jump over here—Holy Virgin Mary!—I am calling you—Jump over to me—
(Soukup who was lying beside him, jumps up.)
Kloc (Continues).—Where are you putting your head, duck
