. ecstasy . . . art . . .
godliness!" he spoke rapidly, telegraphically.

"You have almost guessed it, Mr. Editor . . . it was the same with
me," said Janina.

"You see, mademoiselle, I knew so from the first. It's intuition
that's all! I'll take care of you, upon my word! . . . I'll insert a
little item about you in our next issue. Later, give a few details
under a sensational headline, next, a longer article about the new
star on the horizon of dramatic art," he sped on. . . . "You will
sweep them off their feet . . . the directors will tear you away
from each other, and in about a year or two . . . you will be in the
Grand Theater at Warsaw! . . ."

"But, Mr. Editor, no one knows me; no one, as yet, knows whether I
have talent . . ."

"You have talent, my word! My intuition tells me that. . . . Do not
believe the testimony of the senses, mademoiselle, hold yourself
aloof from all reasoning, throw to the dogs all calculations, but do
not fail to believe intuition! . . ."

"Come here, editor . . . hurry!" called someone to him.

"Au revoir! au revoir!" he said, throwing a kiss to Janina and
touching the brim of his hat as he disappeared.

Janina arose from her seat, but that same intuition which he had
advised her to heed, told her not to take his words seriously. He
seemed to her a light-headed individual given to hasty judgments.
That promise of notices and articles in the papers and his
extravagant praises of her talent seemed to her merely insincere
twaddle. Even his face, gestures, and manner of speaking reminded
her of a certain notorious braggart living in the vicinity of
Bukowiec.

The second act of the play commenced.

Janina looked on, but it did not carry her away as the first had
done.

"How do you like our theater? . . ." asked the brunette chorus girl,
whom she had met in the dressing-room.

"Very well!" answered Janina.

"Bah! the theater is like a plague; when it infects anyone, you
might as well say amen! . . ." whispered the brunette, her voice
hard.

Behind the scenes, in the almost dark passages between the
decorations there was a great number of people. The actors stood in
the passages and certain pairs were crouched in the darkness;
whispers and discreet laughs sounded on all sides.

The stage-director, an old, bald man without a collar and dressed
only in a vest, with a scenario in one hand and a bell in the other,
ran up and down at the back.

"To the stage! You enter imme