in that I shall not
outlive this winter for if my stomach does not pain me it is my
back, if it isn't my back then it's my heart, or else this dreadful
pain passes into my neck and racks my spine as with an iron rod."

"Imagination! Drink a cognac to me. . . . Don't think of your
illness and you'll be well."

"You laugh, but I tell you truly that I can no longer sleep for
whole nights at a time . . . ."

"Imagination, I tell you! Drink a cognac to me!"

"It is easy for those who have never suffered to ridicule."

"I have suffered, my God, I have suffered. | . . Drink a cognac to
me! I once ate in the restaurant 'Under the Star' such a cutlet that
I lay in bed a whole week after it and writhed like an eel with
pain."

They retired to the further end of the buffet near the window and
continued their conversation. The one complained and lamented, the
other ceaselessly laughed, saying every minute, "Drink a cognac to
me!"

"Maurice," called Majkowska in a whisper, lifting the portieres.

Topolski bent over toward her and she murmured into his ear: "I love
you! . . . do you know? . . ." and she passed on, conversing with
Janina.

Throughout the salon formed small groups of people conversing.

Cabinski kept running about continually, inviting the guests to
drink, pouring out the liquors for them, and kissing everybody.

Pepa sat in the salon with the editor and Kotlicki, who was one of
the steady patrons of the theater. She was relating something in a
lively and jovial tone, for the editor would every now and then
burst out in a discreet laugh, while Kotlicki would contort into a
smile, his long equine face, and gather about him his coat-tails.
All that was known about him was that he was rich and ennuied.

Kotlicki listened patiently enough, but, at last, bending toward
Cabinska, he asked in a wooden, expressionless voice, "When does the
culminating act of to-day's performance begin--the supper?"

"Immediately . . . we are waiting only for the owner of the house to
arrive."

"No doubt the rent for the last quarter must be unpaid, if you show
her so much consideration," he whispered ironically.

"You always see everything in the worst light!" she answered,
throwing a flower at him.

"To-day I merely see that the directress is fascinating, that
Majkowska has the mien of a lioness, and that the lady who is
walking with her . . . but who is she?"

"A newly engaged chorus girl."

"Well, I see that yonder