Marie.—O Tomsi, do not risk your life so foolishly! Stay away from the woods which do not lawfully belong to you!

Tomeš.—They are not mine,—true. Neither do they belong to the present possessor who claims them! Do you know, these woods, those all about us once belonged to the people settled among them? Do you realize that those people,—you, I, still have the right to claim them? Later the present masters came,—came like thieves in the night and took them,—seized whatever they pleased to claim! Now they say the woods are theirs, not ours! . . . And we must forever be deprived of our possessions, robbed of our birthright by these vandals, see ourselves oppressed, despised by them!

Marie.—Tomsi, what are you saying!

Tomeš.—Nothing but the truth! . . . (Quietly) The chronicles give us the record of these stately old forests! formerly here among us, yes, all over this territory, this country,—there were other ruling masters, called the “Bohemian Counts,”—and one of them even owned this castle with its estates. But they were, (his voice rose with rising anger) they, including the original master of this castle, were all the victims of a violent death at Prague,—and then, whoever came, seized and held whatever he saw fit to take. (Excitedly) My grandfather used to talk by the hour about it; he heard the facts directly from his father. (Quietly, and secretively) The great grandfather of the present count,—it is said that he took possession of this estate through a crafty course.

Marie (Fearfully).—If some one were to hear you!

Tomeš (With clouded face).—One dare not openly discuss it . . . but sometime when I think of the injustice of it all, when alone, it fires my blood and burns like fire in my veins. . . I then feel as though I could do something wild, desperate . . . . . and when I say to myself, I have as much right to hunt in these forests as the count has to live in his ill-gotten castle,—and then I straightway go into them and no one could prevent me!

Marie.—Tomeš, Tomeš, how wild you are today! And what do you hope to accomplish by this lawlessness?

Tomeš.—And though it is all in vain, (pointing to his breast)—if I could only ease the burning pain that gnaws at my vitals here. Just remember what the people are obliged to suffer out in the fields from these aristocratic beasts, these slave-drivers . . . That old Vrána . . .

Marie (Enviously).—He again,—and that . . .