will throw me out into the
street," whispered Wolska to one of her companions of the chorus.

"But are you sure Ciepieszewski is organizing a company?" asked her
listener.

"He is, undoubtedly. I am to see him in a few days to sign a
contract."

"So you're not going to stay with Cabinski?"

"No, he doesn't want to pay the overdue salary he owes me."

Thirty years were written plainly on Wolska's wearied face on which
worry had left its deep marks. The thick layer of powder and rouge
could not conceal those wrinkles, nor the unrest that glowed in her
eyes. She had a six-year-old son who had been ill since the spring.
She defended him desperately, at the expense of starving herself.

"Counselor! Welcome to our company!" cried Glas, spying the old man,
who for a few weeks had not been seen in the theater.

The counselor entered and began greeting everybody. The reading of
the play was interrupted, for all sprang up from their seats.

"Good morning! Good morning! Am I interrupting you?"

"No, no!" chorused the actors.

"Have a seat, Counselor. We shall listen together," cried Cabinska.

"Ah, young master! my regards to you!" called the counselor to
Glogowski.

"An old idiot!" growled Glogowski, nodding his head and hiding
behind the scenes, for he was already exasperated at those continual
interruptions and conversations.

"Silence! For goodness' sake, this is getting to be like a real
synagogue!" cried the irritated Topolski and began to read on. But
no one listened any longer. The directress left with the counselor
and, one by one, the others quietly slipped out after her. The rain
began to pour heavily and beat so noisy a tattoo upon the tin roof
of the theater that it drowned out all other sounds. It became so
dark, that Topolski could not see to read.

The entire company removed to the men's dressing-room. It was
lighter and warmer there, so they began to chat.

Janina stood together with Glogowski in the doorway and was saying
something in an enthusiastic voice about the theater when Rosinska
interrupted her with derision: "Goodness, you seem to be obsessed by
the theater! . . . Well, well, I would never have believed such a
thing possible had I not heard it . . . ."

"Why, it's simple enough; the theater holds everything that I
desire."

"I, on the other hand, only begin to live outside of the theater."

"Then why don't you abandon the stage?"

"If I only could break away. I'd not stay here