He looked as if he were speaking the truth, but Rehnhjelm's resolution was not to be shaken.
"I beg you to take my advice! I solemnly adjure you to drop this idea. I tell you that the prospects are so bad, that for years to come you'll have simply to walk on. Think of it! And don't come to me with complaints when it is too late. The theatrical career is so infernally difficult, sir, that you would not dream of taking it up, if you had the least knowledge of it! It's a hell! believe me. I have spoken."
It was a waste of breath.
"Well, wouldn't you prefer an engagement without a début? The risk is less great."
"I shall be only too pleased; I never expected more."
"Then you'd better sign this agreement. A salary of twelve hundred crowns and a two years' engagement. Do you agree?"
He pulled a filled-up agreement, signed by the management, from underneath the blotting-pad, and gave it to Rehnhjelm. The latter's brain was whirling at the thought of the twelve hundred crowns and he signed it without a look at the contents.
When he had signed the actor-manager held out his large middle finger with the cornelian ring, and said: "Be welcome!" He flashed at him with the gums of his upper jaw and the yellow and bloodshot whites of his eyes with their green irises.
The audience was over. But Rehnhjelm—in whose opinion the whole business had been hurried through far too quickly—instead of moving, took the liberty of asking whether he had not better wait until all the members of the management were assembled.
"The management?" shouted the great tragedian. "I am the management. If you have any questions to ask, address yourself to me! If you want advice, come to me! To me, sir! To nobody else! That's all! You can go now!"