"You're afraid of your wife? She does not appear in Nitouche, does she?" "No, but . . ." "Waiter! Two cognacs and sandwiches. . . . You will give the role of Nitouche to Nicolette, will you not, Mr. Director? Please do so, for I have a good reason for asking it. Remember, Mr. Cabinski, that I never ask for a thing in vain, and do this for me . . ." "That's already the fourth candidate for the part! . . . God! all that I have to stand because of these women!" "Which of them wants this part?" "Well, Kaczkowska, my wife, Mimi, and now, Nicolette. . . ." "Waiter! Two more cognacs," she called, rapping on the tray with her glass. "You will give the part to Nicolette, Mr. Director, I know for a certainty that she will not accept it, for with her wooden voice she could dance, but not sing. But you see, Mr. Director, this is the very reason for giving it to her." "Well . . . not to mention my own wife, Mimi and Kaczkowska will tear off my head if I do!" "You'll not lose much by that! I'll explain the matter to them. We will have a splendid farce, for you see that gentleman friend of hers will be present at to-day's rehearsal. Yesterday she boasted to him that you had her in mind when you announced in the papers that the role of Nitouche will be played by the beautiful and dashing Mme. X.X." Cabinski began to laugh quietly. "Only don't breathe a word about it. You'll see what will happen. Before him she will pretend to accept the part to show off. Halt will immediately begin to rehearse her and will make a fool of her before everyone. You will then take away her part and give it to whomever you like." "You women are terrible in your malice." "Bah, therein lies our strength." They went out into the garden hall where several members of the company were already waiting for the rehearsal to begin. They sat about on chairs in little groups laughing, joking, telling tales, and complaining while the tuning of the orchestra furnished an accompaniment to the buzz of voices. On the veranda an increasing number of guests was assembling and the hum of voices, the clatter of plates and the noisy shifting of chairs grew ever louder. The smoke of cigarettes ascended in clouds to the iron roof beams. Janina Orlowska entered. She sat down at one of the tables and inquired of the waiter: "Can you tell me if the director of the theater has already arrived?" "There he is!" "Which one of them." "What will you have, madame?" "I beg your pardon, which of those gentlemen is Mr. Cabinski?" "A seven! . . . four whiskies!" someone called to the waiter from a nearby table. "Just a minute, just a minute!" "Beer!" came another voice. "Which of those gentlemen is the director?" patiently asked Janina for the second time. "I will serve you in a minute, madam!" said the waiter bowing on all sides.