"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 went up all over the hall as the actors hurried behind the scenes. "Mr. Director!" called Majkowska, "you can give the role to Nicolette . . . your wife agrees to it." "Very well, my dears, very well . . . ." He went out on the veranda where Nicolette was already seated with a young gentleman, very fastidiously dressed. "We request your presence at the rehearsal, Miss Nicolette. . . ." "What are you rehearsing?" asked Nicolette. "Nitouche . . . why, don't you know that you are to appear in the title role? . . . I have already advertised it in the papers." Kazckowska, who had at that moment entered and was looking at them, hastily covered her face with her parasol, so as not to burst out laughing at the comical look of embarrassment on Nicolette's face. "I am too indisposed at present to take part in the rehearsal," she said, scrutinizing Cabiniski and Kaczkowska. Evidently she suspected some ruse, but Cabinski, with the solemnest mien in the world, handed her the role. "Here is your part, madame. . . . We begin immediately," he said, going away.