"Be quiet there!" sharply called Topolski to the chorus girls. They subdued their voices, but Mimi began almost aloud to tell Kaczkowska about a new style of hat she had seen on Long Street. "If it goes on that way much longer, I won't be able to stand it! The landlord has ordered me to move. Yesterday I pawned almost the last rag, for I had to buy my Johnnie some wine. The poor little fellow is convalescing so slowly. He already wants to get out of bed and is getting restless and peevish. If Ciepieszewski doesn't engage me and pay me in advance, the landlord will throw me out into the street," whispered Wolska to one of her companions of the chorus. "But are you sure Ciepieszewski is organizing a company?" asked her listener. "He is, undoubtedly. I am to see him in a few days to sign a contract." "So you're not going to stay with Cabinski?" "No, he doesn't want to pay the overdue salary he owes me." Thirty years were written plainly on Wolska's wearied face on which worry had left its deep marks. The thick layer of powder and rouge could not conceal those wrinkles, nor the unrest that glowed in her eyes. She had a six-year-old son who had been ill since the spring. She defended him desperately, at the expense of starving herself. "Counselor! Welcome to our company!" cried Glas, spying the old man, who for a few weeks had not been seen in the theater. The counselor entered and began greeting everybody. The reading of the play was interrupted, for all sprang up from their seats. "Good morning! Good morning! Am I interrupting you?" "No, no!" chorused the actors. "Have a seat, Counselor. We shall listen together," cried Cabinska. "Ah, young master! my regards to you!" called the counselor to Glogowski. "An old idiot!" growled Glogowski, nodding his head and hiding behind the scenes, for he was already exasperated at those continual interruptions and conversations. "Silence! For goodness' sake, this is getting to be like a real synagogue!" cried the irritated Topolski and began to read on. But no one listened any longer. The directress left with the counselor and, one by one, the others quietly slipped out after her. The rain began to pour heavily and beat so noisy a tattoo upon the tin roof of the theater that it drowned out all other sounds. It became so dark, that Topolski could not see to read. The entire company removed to the men's dressing-room. It was lighter and warmer there, so they began to chat. Janina stood together with Glogowski in the doorway and was saying something in an enthusiastic voice about the theater when Rosinska interrupted her with derision: "Goodness, you seem to be obsessed by the theater! . . . Well, well, I would never have believed such a thing possible had I not heard it . . . ." "Why, it's simple enough; the theater holds everything that I desire." "I, on the other hand, only begin to live outside of the theater." "Then why don't you abandon the stage?"