ttention to the fact that
his mother was asking everybody in the theater about him and
constantly tracking both him and Janina.

One day Glogowski came rushing into Janina's home and cried out
already from the doorway: "Well, I have come back again to my
Zulus! . . ."

He flung his hat on a trunk, sat on the bed and began to roll a
cigarette.

Janina gazed at him calmly and thought how strange it was that the
coming of this friend who had interested her so deeply in the past
should now leave her so indifferent.

"So you do not weep with joy at seeing me again, eh? Ha! I'll have
to resign myself to it. No doubt the dogs alone will weep over me!
May the deuce take me! But don't you happen to know what is the
matter with Kotlicki? He does not come to the theater any more and I
can't find him anywhere. He must have journeyed somewhere."

"I have not seen him since the night of that supper," answered
Janina slowly.

"There must be some reason for his disappearance! Probably some
adventure, some love affair, some . . . But why should I bother
about such a green monkey, eh? Isn't that true?"

"Indeed it is!" whispered Janina, turning her face toward the
window.

"Oh! and what does that mean?" he cried, glancing sharply into her
eyes. "Goodness, how you have changed! Sunken and glassy eyes,
yellowish complexion, sharpened features. . . . What does it all
mean?" he asked in a quieter tone.

Suddenly he struck his hand to his forehead and began to run up and
down the room like a maniac.

"What an idiot I am. What a monster! Here I am parading about
Warsaw, while here real, artistic poverty has quartered itself in
earnest! Miss Janina," he cried, taking her hand and looking
steadily into her eyes, "Miss Janina! I want you to tell me
everything as at confession. May the deuce take me, but you must
tell me!"

Janina was silent; but seeing his honest face and hearing that
sympathetic voice whose accents had a strange way of gripping one's
heart, she suddenly felt overcome by feeling, and tears stood in her
eyes. She could not speak for emotion.

"Well, well, there's no use crying, for I shall depart anyway," he
said jokingly to hide his own emotion. "Now, just listen to me . . .
but without any protests or loud opposition, for I detest
parliamentarism! I see you are in poverty and theatrical poverty in
the bargain. . . . Well, I happen to know what it's like. Now, for
goodness' sake, stop blushing. Poverty that is