"Topolski! . . . Topolski alone has a talent, but what does he do with it? . . . A bandit, a Singalese, who goes into epileptic fits on the stage, who is ready to put a barn on the stage if those new authors require it. They call that realism, while in truth it is nothing but roguery! . . ." "And the women? . . . you forget the women, sir! . . . Who plays the parts of sweethearts and heroines? . . . Who is in the chorus? . . . scrub-women and barmaids, who have made of the theater a screen for their licentiousness. But that's nothing . . . the directors want that; what do they care if these women possess neither talent, intelligence nor beauty! . . . They give them the most important roles. They act the parts of heroines and look like chambermaids or like those who walk the streets! . . . But what do the directors care as long as the business keeps going and the box office is sold out . . . that's all they care about!" She spoke rapidly and the blood rushed to her face so violently that she became all red, in spite of the thick layer of powder and cream. The stage-director, who was once the celebrated hero of a few theaters, and old Mirowska who was still retained only as a favor because of her old age and brilliant past completed the camp of the veterans of the old actors' guard, who had fought in other times, and looked upon the present with gloomy eyes. They stood beneath the bridge of a sinking ship, hence no one even heard their cries of despair. Kotlicki beckoned to Wladek and made room for him beside himself. Wladek in passing Janina cast a glance of fiery passion at her, and then sat down near Kotlicki, rubbing his knee which bothered him whenever he sat for any length of time. "Rheumatism is already there, eh? . . . while fame and money are still far away! . . ." Kotlicki began mockingly. "Oh, the deuce take fame! . . . Money I wouldn't mind having . . ." "Do you think you will ever get it?" "I will . . . my faith in that is unfailing! At times it seems to me as though I already felt it in my pocket." "That's true. Your mother owns a house." "And six children and a pile of debts as high as the chimney! . . . No, not that! . . . I will get the money elsewhere . . ." "In the meanwhile, according to your old custom you borrow it wherever you can, eh?" Kotlicki mocked on. "Oh, don't fear. I'll return yours this month yet, without fail." "I will wait even until the reappearance of the comet of 1812; it will pass this way again in about a year. . . ." "Don't mock me. . . . You'd not hurt people as much with a club as you do with your cynicism." "That's my weapon!" answered Kotlicki, contracting his brows. "Perhaps, before long, I shall marry and then I will pay up all my debts. . . ." Kotlicki turned violently towards him, glanced straight into his eyes and began to laugh with his quiet, neighing voice, screwing his face into a grimace. "That is the finest piece of invention that I have ever heard!"