Ritter. [To Mrs. Pampinelli] Yes, it was—too bad.
Jenny. [To Mrs. Ritter] Oh, all right, then. [She withdraws, and Mrs. Ritter stands looking out into the right hallway.]
Mrs. Pampinelli. I suppose Paula wrote you.
Ritter. Yes.
Mrs. Pampinelli. Dear me—I don’t know when anything has so upset me. [Ritter stands looking at the end of his cigar and Mrs. Pampinelli looks straight ahead.] I don’t believe I closed an eye the entire night,—wondering where on earth I should find someone to play his wife’s part. [Ritter glances at her, as he places the cigar in his mouth, and Mrs. Pampinelli looks at him quickly.] Because, of course, you know that Mrs. Sheppard was to have played the part that Paula plays.
Ritter. Yes, so she told me. [Mrs. Ritter, still nibbling at the fudge, wanders down and stands in the middle of the room.]
Mrs. Pampinelli. But we only had three days to get someone; and it didn’t seem possible to me that anyone could memorize that part in that length of time. [Mrs. Ritter touches her hair and makes a little sound of amusement,—a kind of modest acknowledgment of the brilliancy of her achievement.] So I thought at first—of having Clara Sheppard go on anyway, and I should make an announcement; but, you see, Mr. Sheppard was buried on the fourteenth, and that was the night of the performance; and as I thought the matter over, it seemed to me that perhaps it was just a little too much to expect of her—[Ritter gives her another glance.] Considering her experience as an actress, I mean.
Ritter. [Taking the cigar from his mouth and speaking with a shade of deliberation] Couldn’t she have kept his death a secret,—until after the performance?
Mrs. Pampinelli. Well, I thought of that, too; [Ritter looks at her steadily.] but, you see, it was three days,—[He nods, understandingly.] and he was so very well known. [She moves back across the room towards the table below the piano, and Ritter stands looking after her. Simultaneously, there is a frantic giggle from the right hallway. Mrs. Ritter goes up to the center-door, looks in the direction of the laughter, and waves her handkerchief, while Mrs. Pampinelli, passing below the table, gathers up her note-book and pencil and continues to the table below the casement-window, where she secures the manuscript. Ritter steps forward from his position before the mantelpiece, and disposes of some ashes on the little table-tray.]
Mrs. Fell. [Out in the right hallway] Paula, that’s a very dangerous young man you have on that door tonight.
Mrs. Ritter. [Calling to her] I think it’s very kind of Mr. Spindler. [Mrs. Pampinelli comes around in front of the big arm-chair below the casement-window.]