"Janina!" he cried endearingly, as though he wanted to shield himself thereby from her accusation. "I forbid you to address me in that manner, it insults me!" "Have you gone crazy, or what has happened to you? What sort of farce do you call that!" he choked out in anger. "I have found out what you are and I scorn you with my whole soul." "Whew! So that is the kind of pathetic role you have chosen to play? Are you preparing it for your debut at the Warsaw Theater?" Janina answered him only with a look of scorn and walked away. Sowinska came up to her and with a mysterious and cruel pity in her voice whispered: "It isn't good for you to get so irritated and also, you ought not lace yourself so tightly." "Why?" "It may harm you, because . . . because . . ." and she whispered the rest into Janina's ear. The blood rushed to Janina's face with shame at the thought that Sowinska had recognized her condition which she was seeking to conceal. She had no more strength left to reply to her, nor time either, for she had to go on the stage. They were playing The Peasant Emigration and Janina appeared in the first act as a super. In the men's dressing-room that evening, a storm broke out. In the intermission before the so-called "Christmas Eve" scene of the play, Topolski, who was acting the part of "Bartek Kozica," sent to Cabinski a letter, or a sort of ultimatum demanding fifty rubles for himself and Majkowska and, in case of a denial, refusing to play any further. While waiting for Cabinski's reply, he began slowly to remove his make-up. Cabinski came running almost with tears in his eyes and cried: "I will give you twenty rubles. Oh, oh! you people have no mercy on me!" "Give me fifty rubles and we shall continue to play; if you don't then . . ." Here he unglued one half of his mustache and began to take off his leggings. "For God's sake man! there is only one hundred rubles in all in the treasury and that is hardly enough to cover the expenses." "Let me have fifty rubles immediately, or else you can finish the play yourself or return the public its money," calmly said Topolski, pulling off his other legging. "Up till now, I had thought that you, at least, were a man! Just think what you are doing to us all," pleaded Cabinski. "Don't you see, Director . . . I am undressing." The intermission was being prolonged and the public outside was beginning to shout and stamp its feet with impatience. "No, I should sooner have expected death than that! And you, who are my best friend, are you going to go back on me now?" continued Cabinski. "My dear Director, there's no use talking any further. You can fool everyone else, but not me." "But I haven't the money. If I give you thirty rubles now, I will have nothing left with which to pay the rent of the theater!" cried Cabinski in despair, running about the dressing-room. "I have said: if you do not give us fifty rubles, we shall go straight home."