inued to stream
quietly down her face until even Cabinska was touched and, drawing
nearer to her, whispered with sincere sympathy, "For God's sake what
is the matter with you? Tell me, perhaps I shall be able to help
you."

In reply Janina blushed faintly, warmly clasped Cabinska's hand, and
hastily left the pastry shop.

Tears were stifling her; life was stifling her.

Immediately afterward Stanislawski came to Janina and urged her to
leave with him for the small provincial towns. He was organizing a
company of from eight to nine persons in which each was to hold a
share. He offered Janina leading roles and spoke in glowing terms of
the certain success that awaited them in the provincial towns. He
enumerated all those whom he was engaging: all young people and
novices, full of energy, zeal, and talent. And he promised himself
that he would lead them along the path of true art, that his company
would be in the nature of a school for drama and that he would be a
real teacher and father, who would make of these people true artists
worthy of the theater and its traditions.

Janina refused Stanislawski briefly. She thanked him heartily for
the kindness he had shown her during the summer and took leave of
him cordially, as though forever.

When he had gone, she determined finally to end it all. She had not
yet told herself decisively: "I will die!" So far, if someone had
told her that she was contemplating suicide she would have denied it
sincerely, but already that thought and desire were lurking in the
subconscious depths of her mind.

Janina knew when the Cabinskis were leaving, so she went down to the
steamboat landing. She stood upon the bridge and watched them steam
away. She gazed at the gray waves of the Wisla splashing against the
sides of the pier and at the distant horizon veiled in autumn mists,
and such an intense sadness and grief overwhelmed her that she could
not move from the spot, or tear her eyes away from the water.

Night fell and Janina still stood there, gazing before her. The rows
of lights on the river banks sprang up from the darkness like golden
flowers and dotted the rocking, greenish surface of the water with
quivering gleams. The din and hum of the city echoed dimly behind
her, the hacks sped with noisy clatter across the bridge, the bells
of the tramcars clanged incessantly, crowds of people passed by with
laughter; sometimes the echo of a song reached Janina, or the merry
tones of a