compromises her before everybody. . . .
At least, she could refrain from making a show before other people!"

"How so? Can a girl be ashamed of her mother? . . ." cried Janina,
who had been sitting in silence, until those last words stirred her
to indignation.

"You are a newcomer, so you don't know anything," several answered
her at once.

"May I come in? . . ." called a masculine voice from without.

"You can't! you can't!" chorused the girls energetically.

"Zielinska! your editor has come."

A tall, stout chorus girl, rustling her skirts, passed out of the
room.

"Shepska! take a look out after them."

Shepska went out, but came back immediately.

"They've gone downstairs."

The stage bell rang violently.

"To the stage!" called the stage-director at the door. "We begin
immediately!"

There arose an indescribable hubbub. All the girls began to talk and
shout at the same time; they ran about, tore away hairpins and
curling irons from one another, powdered themselves, quarreled over
trifles, blew out candles, hastily closed their dressing-cases and
rushed down the stairs in crowds, for the second bell had already
sounded.

Janina descended last of all and stood behind the scenes. The
performance began. They were playing some kind of half fairy-like
operetta. Janina could hardly recognize those people or that theater
everything had undergone such a magical transformation and taken on
a new beauty under the influence of powder, paint, and light! . . .

The music, with the quiet caressing tones of the flute, floated
through the silence and stole into Janina's soul, lulling it
sweetly . . . and later, a dance of some kind, soft, voluptuous, and
intoxicating, enveloped her with its charm, lured and rocked her on
the waves of rhythm and held her in an ecstatic lethargy.

She felt herself drawn ever farther into a confused whirl of lights,
tones and colors. Her impulsive and sensuous nature, struggling
hitherto with the drab commonplace of everyday events and people,
was fascinated. It was almost as she had visioned it in her soul;
full of lights, music, thrilling accents, ecstatic swoons, strong
colors, and stormy and overpowering emotions, breaking with the
force of thunderbolts.

The suffocating odor of powder dust floated about her like a cloud,
while from the crowded hall there flowed a stream of hot breaths and
desiring glances that broke against the stage like a magnetic wave,
drowning in forget