eldest children, was sitting near the
proscenium under the ropes of the curtain.

Wawrzecki from behind the scenes was violently beckoning to Mimi who
was just then singing a duet with Wladek. In the pauses, the actress
would spitefully stick out her tongue at him.

"Give me the key to the house . . . I forgot my shoes, and I need
them right away!" he whispered.

"It's in my skirt pocket in the dressing-room," she answered,
backing away toward the center of the stage with a broad musical
phrase on her lips.

"Halt" was banging the desk with his baton, for Wladek was cutting
short his tones and continually wavering. The threatening anger of
the orchestra director only made him all the more nervous, and his
singing was growing steadily worse.

"The damned Hun is purposely trying to trip me!" he muttered angrily
under his breath, embracing the singing Mimi in the love scene.

"For God's sake don't squeeze me so hard!" panted Mimi, at the same
time smiling at him rapturously.

"For I adore you with the frenzy of love . . . for I adore you!"
sang Wladek with fiery intonation.

"Are you crazy? I will be all black and blue and . ."

She suddenly broke off, for Wladek had finished his song and the
applause came roaring like an avalanche, so she pulled him by the
hand and they walked to the front of the stage to bow to the
audience.

During the intermission Janina observed the editor standing in the
center aisle, conversing with some stout, blond man.

"Can you tell me, sir, with what paper that editor is connected?"
Janina asked the stage-director, who was supervising the arrangement
of the scenery for the next act.

"With no paper, probably. He's merely a theatrical critic."

"He told me himself that . . ."

"Ha, ha!" laughed the stage-director, "I see you're green!"

"But he is sitting in the chairs reserved for the press," persisted
Janina stating what she thought was a convincing argument.

"What of that? There are more of his kind there. Do you see that
light blonde? He alone is a real writer and the rest are merely
migratory birds. God alone knows what their occupation is . . . but
since they hobnob with everybody, talk a lot, have money from
somewhere, and occupy the foremost places everywhere, no one even
bothers asking who they are."

"Ah, you look so fascinating, so fascinating" cried the editor at
that instant rushing in upon the stage and already from a distance
extending his hands to her. "A