third
act . . . they arose in their chairs."

"That's because they wanted to run away from such a treat," came the
mocking voice again.

"How many bouquets did you receive, Madame Directress?"

"Ask the director, he paid the bill."

"Ah, Mr. Counselor, you are unbearable to-day!" cried the directress
in a sweet voice, although almost pale with rage, for all the actors
were growing red in the face in their effort to keep from laughing.

"It's intended as a kindness. . . . All the rest of them are saying
pretty things, let me say something sensible."

"You are an impertinent man, Mr. Counselor! . . . How can you say
such things? . . ."

"Moreover, what do I care about the theater! If I played well, I owe
it to my husband; if I played badly it's the fault of the director
for forcing me to appear continually in new roles! If I had my way,
I would lock myself up with my children and confine myself to
domestic affairs. . . . My God! art is such a big thing and we are
all, compared with it, so small, so small that I tremble with fear
before each new performance!" she declaimed.

"Please let me have a word with you in private," called Majkowska.

"Do you see? . . . there is not even time to talk of art!" she
sighed deeply and departed.

"An old scarecrow!"

"An everlasting cow! . . . She thinks she is an artist!"

"Yesterday she bellowed terribly."

"She flung herself around the stage as though she had St. Vitus'
dance!"

"Hush! . . . according to her that is realism!"

On the veranda Majkowska was concluding her conversation with Mrs.
Cabinska.

"Will you give me your word of honor, Madame Directress?"

"Of course, I'll see to it right away."

"It must be done. Nicolette has made herself impossible in this
company. Why, she even dares to criticize your own playing!
Yesterday I saw her making disparaging remarks to that editor,"
Majkowska whispered.

"What! she dares to meddle with me?"

"I never indulge in gossip, nor do I want to sow hatred, but--"

"What did she say? . . . in the presence of the editor, did you say?
Ah, the vile coquette!"

Majkowska smothered a smile, but hastily replied, "No, I'll not tell
you . . . I do not like to repeat gossip!"

"Well, I'll pay her back for it! . . . Wait, we'll teach her a
lesson!" hissed the directress.

"Dobek, prompter! . . . get into your box!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, the rehearsal commences!"

"To the stage! to the stage!" was the cry that wen