me, Mr. Director, will you?"

"With whom did you appear before?"

"Pardon me, but I don't quite understand."

"With what company? . . . Where?"

"I have never before appeared in the theater. I came here straight
from the country for the express purpose of joining it."

"You have never appeared before? . . . Then, I have no place for
you!" and he turned to go.

Janina was seized with a desperate fear that her quest would fail,
so with courage and a tone of strong entreaty in her voice she began
to speak hurriedly:

"Mr. Director! I journeyed here especially to join your company. I
love the theater so ardently that I cannot live without it! . . . Do
not refuse me! I do not know anyone here in Warsaw. I came to you
because I had read so much about you in the papers. I feel that I
could play . . . I have memorized so many roles! . . . You will see,
Mr. Director . . . if you only let me appear . . . you will see!"

Cabinski was silent.

"Or perhaps you would prefer to have me call to-morrow? . . . I can
wait a few days, if you wish," she added, seeing that he did not
answer, but was observing her intently.

Her voice trembled with entreaty; it modulated with ease and there
was so much originality and warmth in her tone that Cabinski
listened to her with pleasure.

"Now I have no time, but after the rehearsal we can discuss the
matter more thoroughly," he said.

She wanted impulsively to press his hand and thank him for the
promise, but her courage failed her, for she noticed that an
increasing number of people were curiously observing them.

"Hey there, Cabinski!"

"Man alive!"

"Director! What's that . . . a rendezvous? In broad daylight, before
the eyes of all, and scarcely three flights away from Pepa?"

Such were the bantering remarks hurled at him from every direction
after his parting with Janina.

"Who is the charmer?"

"Director, it's rather careless to carry on such an affair right
there in the limelight."

"Ha! ha! now we've got you! . . . You posed as a flawless crystal,
my muddy amber!" called one of the company, a fleshless individual
with habitually contorted lips that seemed to spew gall and malice.

"Go to the devil, my dear! This is the first time I saw her,"
retorted Cabinski.

"A pretty woman! What does she want?"

"A novice of some kind . . . she's seeking an engagement."

"Take her, Director. There are never too many pretty women on the
stage."

"The director has enough