SCENE I.
Jozwowicz. Anton.
Doctor.—Anton, come here. We can talk quietly, for they are preparing my room. What news from the city?
Anton.—Good news. In an hour or so a delegation of the voters will be here. You must say something to them—you understand? Something about education—public roads, heavy taxes. You know what to say better than I do.
Doctor.—I know, I know; and how do they like my platform?
Anton.—You have made a great hit. I congratulate you. It is written with scientific accuracy. The papers of the Conservative party have gone mad with wrath.
Doctor.—Very good. What more?
Anton.—Three days ago your election was doubtful in the suburbs. I learned about it, however—gathered the electors and made a speech. "Citizens," I said, in the end, "I know only one remedy for all your misery—it is called Jozwowicz. Long live Progress!" I also attacked the Conservative party.
Doctor.—Anton, you are a great boy. Then there is a hope of victory?
Anton.—Almost a surety. And then, even if we do not win now, the future is open to us. And do you know why? Because—leaving out the details of the election, you and I, while talking of our business affairs, need not laugh at each other, like Roman augurs. Progress and truth are on our side, and every day makes a new breach in the old wall. We are only aiding the centuries and we must conquer. I am talking calmly: Our people, our electors are merely sheep, but we wish to make men of them, and therein lies our strength. As for me, if I were not persuaded that in my principles lie truth and progress, I would spit on everything and become a monk.