bably do not know what I, an
actress of long standing and with so large a repertory, have to
suffer on her account. You could not notice what was being schemed,
for it was all done so quickly that besides myself, probably no one
else knew about it. Such a creature as she always has luck! But wait
I will fix her to-day! I'll pay her back for the both of us!"

The dressing-room slowly began to fill with actresses, their noisy
chatter and the smell of powder and pigments that were being warmed
over the candles. They were beginning to dress.

At last Majkowska came in, stately and triumphant, with a bouquet in
her hands and roses in her corsage. Seeing Janina sitting alongside
of Rosinska she frowned and cried angrily: "If I am not mistaken,
this is not the dressing-room of the chorus girls."

"You are mistaken, you pantomime artist!" retorted Rosinska.

"I am not speaking to you."

"But I am answering you. Please stay here," she said, turning to
Janina who wanted to leave.

"Don't you begin with me! Do you think I'm going to dress together
with novices, eh?"

"Wait, you'll get a separate cell with a strait-jacket of your own.
You can't miss it."

"Shut your mouth! You forty-year-old simp."

"My age is none of your business, you ruined heroine!"

"She looks like a drenched hen on the stage and yet dares to raise
her voice here."

Everybody in the dressing-room was shaking with laughter, while
Rosinska and Majkowska began to quarrel ever more vulgarly, without
however interrupting for a moment their make-up and hasty dressing.

Janina listened to the quarrel in silence. She hardly felt any
grievance toward Majkowska for depriving her of the role, but only a
physical aversion to her person. Majkowska now appeared to her so
filthy, brazen, and base that even her voice sounded disgusting.

Only when they began to play Doctor Robin, Janina stood behind the
scenes to see what would be done with her role. It is impossible to
describe that subtle, excruciating pain that rent her soul when she
saw Majkowska as "Mary" on the stage. She felt that that other woman
was tearing out piecemeal from her brain and heart every word, every
gesture, every pose and accent.

"They are mine, mine!" she breathed, unable to help herself. "Mine!"
And she devoured Mela with her eyes and then closed them so that she
might not behold any more of it, nor torment herself with
remembering the role as she had conceived it. "The thief!" she