ourage.

Janina was merely to grasp a broom, take her drunken husband by the
collar, shout a few lines of imprecation and complaint and then drag
him out forcibly through the door. She did all this a trifle too
violently, but with such realism that she gave the impression of an
infuriated peasant woman.

Glogowski went to Janina. She stood on the stairs leading to the
dressing-room; her eyes beamed with a certain deep satisfaction.

"Very good! . . . that was a real peasant woman. You have a
temperament and a voice and those are two first-rate endowments!"
said Glogowski, and tip-toed back to his seat.

"Perhaps we ought to give an encore of that scene?" whispered
Cabinski into his ear.

"Dry up and go to the devil!" answered Glogowski in the same quiet
whisper and felt a great desire to strike Cabinski. But just then, a
new thought occurred to his mind, for he saw the nurse standing
nearby.

"Nurse!" he called to her.

The nurse unwillingly approached Glogowski.

"Tell me, nurse, what do you think of that comedy?" he asked her
curiously.

"The title is very unpolitic . . . 'churls'! Everyone knows that
peasants are not nobles, but to call them by such a scornful name
for the amusement of others is a downright sin!"

"Well, that is of minor importance . . . but do you think those
characters resemble real peasants?"

"Yes, you have hit upon the real thing. Peasants are just like that,
only they don't dress so elegantly, nor are they so refined in their
bearing and speech. But pardon me, sir, if I say one thing; what's
the use of it all? Present, if you wish, nobles, Jews, or any other
kind of ragamuffins, but to make a laughing-stock and a comedy of
honest tillers of the soil is a downright shame! God is like to
punish you for such frivolity! A husbandman is a husbandman . . .
beware of trifling with him!" she added in conclusion and continued
to gaze at the stage with an ever greater severity and almost with
tears of indignation in her eyes.

Glogowski had no time to wonder at her attitude for just then the
third act ended amid thunderous applause and calls for the author,
but he did not go out to bow.

A few journalists came to shake hands with him and praise his play.
He listened to them indifferently, for already his mind was occupied
with a plan for remaking that play. Now first did he see in detail
its various inconsistencies and the things that were lacking, and
immediately completed them in his