"Have a seat, Counselor. We shall listen together," cried Cabinska.
"Ah, young master! my regards to you!" called the counselor to
Glogowski.
"An old idiot!" growled Glogowski, nodding his head and hiding behind the scenes, for he was already exasperated at those continual interruptions and conversations.
"Silence! For goodness' sake, this is getting to be like a real synagogue!" cried the irritated Topolski and began to read on. But no one listened any longer. The directress left with the counselor and, one by one, the others quietly slipped out after her. The rain began to pour heavily and beat so noisy a tattoo upon the tin roof of the theater that it drowned out all other sounds. It became so dark, that Topolski could not see to read.
The entire company removed to the men's dressing-room. It was lighter and warmer there, so they began to chat.
Janina stood together with Glogowski in the doorway and was saying something in an enthusiastic voice about the theater when Rosinska interrupted her with derision: "Goodness, you seem to be obsessed by the theater! . . . Well, well, I would never have believed such a thing possible had I not heard it . . . ."
"Why, it's simple enough; the theater holds everything that I desire."
"I, on the other hand, only begin to live outside of the theater."
"Then why don't you abandon the stage?"
"If I only could break away. I'd not stay here another hour!" she answered with bitterness.