I timidly asked him whether I could come to take lessons from him. 'Yes, come' he answered, 'you can sweep the floor and carry water for me. Do you know how to speak Chinese?' 'No,' I answered, not knowing what he was driving at. 'Well, then learn it and come back to me and we shall then speak about the theater!' . . . I shall never forget that moment as long as I live." "Don't get mawkish over it, for Glogowski won't treat you to any more beer anyway," remarked Glas. "Say what you will, but it is art alone that makes life worth something," persisted Wladek. "And didn't you see Richter again?" asked Janina curiously. "How could he . . . he hasn't learned Chinese yet," interposed Glas. "No, I didn't go to see him; and moreover, when they expelled me from school I immediately ran away from home and joined Krzyzanowski's company," answered Wladek. "You were with Krzyzanowski?" asked someone. "For a whole year I walked with him, his wife, his son, the immortal Leo and one other actress. I say that I 'walked' because in those days we seldom used other means of locomotion. Very often there was nothing to eat, but I could act and declaim as much as I liked. I had an enormous repertoire. With a cast of four persons we presented Shakespeare and Schiller, most wonderfully made over for our own use by Krzyzanowski, who besides that had a great many plays of his own with double or quadruple titles." While the rain continued interminably, they drew together in a still closer circle and chatted. Suddenly their conversation was interrupted by loud cries from the stage. "Quiet! what is that?" asked everybody. "Aha! Majkowska versus Topolski in a scene of free love." Janina went out to see what was happening. On the almost totally dark stage the heroic pair were engaged in a quarrel. "Where were you?" cried Majkowska, springing at Topolski with clenched fists. "Let me alone, Mela." "Where were you all last night?" "I tell you, please go away. . . . If you are ill, go home." "You were playing cards again, weren't you? And I haven't even enough money for a dress! I couldn't even buy myself a supper last night!" "Why didn't you want the money when you could have had it?" "Oh, yes, you'd want me to have money so that you could gamble it away. You would even help me to get the money for that purpose . . . you base scoundrel!" She sprang at him with nervous fury. Her beautiful, statuesque face glowed with rage. She grasped his arm, pinched him and shook him, without herself knowing what she was doing. Topolski, losing his patience, struck her violently away from him. Majkowska with almost a roar so little did her voice seem to have in it anything human and with spasmodic laughter, and crying, and tragic wringing of hands, fell on her knees before him. "Maurice, my soul's beloved, forgive me! . . . Light of my life! Ha! ha! ha! you damned scoundrel, you! . . . My dearest, my dearest, forgive me! . . ."