Page:Poet Lore, volume 34, 1923.djvu/62

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48
RADUZ AND MAHULENA

How confusedly she raves! I have never seen her; I know her not, and I think, poor girl, that she is crazed.

Mahulena.—O, verily, there is great truth in that. I am indeed crazed! For it is impossible that that should really happen which now presents itself to my sight and hearing! Radúz cannot speak thus and gaze thus! Could it be possible that my voice should not penetrate his heart? (Takes him by the hand and speaks tenderly.) Radúz, my beloved soul!

Radúz.—What is this? What is it? Ah, mother, within me is such anguish . . . and my mind is clouded . . . Relieve my fever! . . .

Nyola.—Thou art deadly pale, my poor son. (Kisses him.)

Mahulena (Wildly).—Now I clearly know what I had already guessed! O, kiss him not! Back! Each caress thou givest is a new curse! Each kiss of thine is a new imprecation! . . . I only have the right to kiss him, only I! This soul belongs to me; that cheek is only for my lips—they only will wipe away the traces of thy kissing! . . . (Is about to kiss him.)

Radúz (Drawing back).—Away from me!

Nyola.—O shamelessness as yet unheard of! I blush for thee, bold girl! Push her back, drag her away at once! (Several men seize Mahulena.)

Mahulena.—Radúz, behold what I am suffering for thee! But one word, one glance!

Radúz.—I know thee not, yet I have pity for thee. (Hides his face.)

Nyola.—Now lift the bier and proceed to the funeral pyre. Dismiss the memory of this frantic scene and plunge yourselves in devout thought, in prayers!

(The music of trumpets is heard.)

Mahulena.—My Radúz! . . . Now my light is setting! . . . Radúz, Nyola, and the whole train pass on.
Mahulena (Faintly).—Ah, Radúz! (Falls face downward.)

The funeral train disappears; the stage remains empty except for a few women and maidens standing about Mahulena.

Women.—Thou hapless maiden . . . arise . . . Quickly depart hence before they return. It is dangerous to anger those in power.

Maidens.—Thou hast suffered much, one can see, and so thy mind has become clouded. Come with us . . . Thou art a foreigner . . . Where is thy home? We will show thee the path through the forest, that thou mayst go to thine own people.