o be indifferent and care for
nothing."

"How long have you been riding that hobbyhorse?"

"Truth is usually learned late."

"How long will you stick to that truth?"

"Perhaps forever, if I can find nothing better."

"Piesh, to the stage!" came the voice of the stage-director.

The actor arose stiffly, and with a quick, automatic step, went
behind the scenes.

"A curious, a very curious fellow!" whispered the counselor.

"Yes, but very tiresome with his ever-lasting truths, ideals, and
other foolish haberdashery!" cried a young actor dressed like a doll
in a light suit, a pink-striped shirt and yellow calf-skin pumps.

"Ah, Wawrzecki! . . . You must have again slain some innocent
beauty, for your face is as radiant as the sun . . ."

"It's easy for you to joke, Mr. Counselor! . . ." he defended
himself with a knowing smile, advancing his shapely foot. He posed
gracefully, raised his hand, and flashed his jeweled rings, for the
directress was gazing at him through half-closed eyes.

"Well then, in your estimation who is not tiresome, eh? . . . Come
now, confess my boy!"

"The counselor, for he has humor and a good heart; the director when
he pays; the public when it applauds us; pretty and kind women, the
spring, if it is warm; people, when they are happy, all that is
beautiful pleasant and smiling; while tiresome things are all those
that are ugly: cares, tears, suffering, poverty, old age and
cold. . . ."

"Who is that young lady over there?" inquired the counselor,
pointing to Janina who was listening attentively to the rehearsal.

"A novice."

"She has an engaging expression. Her face shows good breeding and
intelligence. Do you know who she is? . . ."

"Wicek!" called Cabinska to the boy who was playing about the
garden, "go and ask that lady, standing near the box, to come here."

Wicek ran over to Janina circled about her, glanced into her eyes
and said: "The old woman over there wishes to see you."

"What old woman? . . . Who? . . ." she asked, unable to understand
him.

"Cabinska, Mrs. Pepa, the directress, of course! . . ."

Janina approached slowly, while the counselor observed her intently.

"Please have a seat, mademoiselle. This is our dear counselor, the
patron of our theater," spoke Cabinska, introducing him.

"I beg your pardon!" cried the counselor, grasping her hand and
turning the palm to the light.

"Don't be afraid, Miss Orlowska! . . . The counselor has an innocent
ma