, making room for Gold alongside himself.

Gold located himself carefully and began to eat. When the company
had forgotten him a bit, he ventured to address them:

"I have brought you the latest news, for I see no one knows it, as
yet. . . ."

He took a newspaper from his side pocket and began to read aloud:
"Miss Snilowska, the noted and talented artist of the provincial
theaters, playing under the pseudonym of 'Nicolette' has received
permission to make her debut in the Warsaw Theater. She will make
her first appearance next Tuesday in Sardou's Odette. We hope that
the management, in engaging Miss Snilowska, has added a very
valuable acquisition to the stage."

He folded away the paper and calmly continued to eat. The company
was struck dumb with amazement.

"Nicolette on the Warsaw stage! . . . Nicolette making her
debut! . . . Nicolette! . . ." they whispered with subdued voices.

Everybody began to look at Majkowska and Pepa, but both were silent.

Majkowska's face wore a scornful expression while Pepa, unable to
conceal the anger that raged within her, tore distractedly at the
lace on her sleeves.

"No doubt she is now blessing that intrigue that caused her to leave
us, for it helped instead of harming her," said someone.

"Or else it was her talent that helped her!" intentionally added
Kotlicki.

"Talent?" cried Cabinska, "Nicolette and talent! Ha! ha! ha! Why she
could not even play a chambermaid on our stage!"

"Nevertheless in the Warsaw Theater she will play the second-best
roles," interposed Kotlicki.

"The Warsaw Theater! The Warsaw Theater! That is a still poorer show
than ours!" added Glas.

"Ho! ho! what do the Warsaw Theater and its actors amount to! . . .
Nothing great, to be sure!" shouted Krzykiewicz, all flushed with
drinking as he filled the landlady's glass with wine.

"Only pay us such salaries as their actors get, and you will see who
we are!" called Piesh.

"That's true! Piesh is right. Who can think only of art when his
rent is in arrears?"

"That's a falsehood! That would mean that you could make an artist
of any swineherd whom you fed," called Stanislawski across the
table.

"Poverty is a fire that burns rubbish, but the true metal only comes
out of it all the purer," quickly said Topolski.

"Nonsense! It comes out not purer, but only more sooty, and
afterwards the rust devours it all the more quickly. A bottle is
worth something not because it may have once containe