THE TARTAR [after a silence] Pray for your own self!
THE ACTOR [quickly crawls off the stove and goes to the table, pours out a drink with shaking hands, drinks, then almost runs to passage] All over!
SATINE. Hey, proud Sicambrian! Where are you going?
[Satine whistles. Miedviedieff enters, dressed in a woman’s flannel shirt-waist; followed by Bubnoff. Both are slightly drunk. Bubnoff carries a bunch of pretzels in one hand, a couple of smoked fish in the other, a bottle of vodka under one arm, another bottle in his coat pocket.]
MIEDVIEDIEFF. A camel is something like a donkey—only it has no ears. . . .
BUBNOFF. Shut up! You’re a variety of donkey yourself!
MIEDVIEDIEFF. A camel has no ears at all, at all—it hears through its nostrils . . .
BUBNOFF [to Satine] Friend! I’ve looked for you in all the saloons and all the cabarets! Take this bottle—my hands are full . . .
SATINE. Put the pretzels on the table—then you’ll have one hand free—