he library is ready to be sent away and the costumes are
already half completed, hence we have almost all that is needed."

"What are you still lacking?" asked Janina, determining immediately
to ask for an engagement.

"A little money . . . a mere trifle of about a thousand rubles as a
working capital for the first month," answered Topolski.

"Couldn't you borrow it?"

"Yes . . . and that is precisely what I want to talk over with you
in a friendly way, for we already count you as one of us. I will
give you a good salary and alternating roles with Mela for I know
that you are a capable actress. You have the appearance, the voice
and the temperament, and, aside from intelligence, that is just what
is required to make an excellent actress."

"Oh thank you, thank you sincerely!" cried Janina beaming with joy.
And so elated was she that she kissed Majkowska, who, as was her
habit, was almost lying on the table and gazing absently at the
lamp.

"But you must help us!" said Topolski after a short pause.

"I? What can I do?" she asked in surprise.

"A great deal! If you only want to . . ." he answered.

"Well! if you say that I can, then, of course I shall be glad to
help, for it is not only my duty, but also in my own interest! But
I'm very curious to know what I can do."

"It's a question of that one thousand rubles. The money is already
assured, only there is one little condition . . ."

"What is it?" Janina asked curiously.

Topolski drew closer to her, took hold of her hands in a friendly
way and only then answered:

"Miss Janina not only our theater, but your entire artistic future
depends on this, so I will tell you frankly that there is someone
who is ready to give even two thousand rubles, but he said that he
would give them only to you personally, otherwise not at all."

"Who is that person?" she asked uneasily.

"Kotlicki!"

Janina dropped her head and for a while a deep silence reigned in
the room. Topolski gazed at her uneasily, while Majkowska had upon
her face an indescribably derisive smile.

Janina almost cried out with pain, so repulsive did that name and
proposal strike her and after a moment she arose from her chair and
said in a determined voice: "No! I will not go to Kotlicki . . . and
that which you have proposed to me is insulting and outrageous! Only
in the theater can people lose so entirely their moral sense as to
persuade others to base acts and purposely push them into the mir