"Nicolette, to the stage!" cried those in the chairs.
"In a moment! Here I am . . ." and Nicolette, with a sandwich in her mouth and a box of candy under her arm, rushed for the stage entrance with such violence that the floor creaked under her steps.
"What the devil do you mean by appearing so late! This is a rehearsal . . . we are all waiting," angrily muttered the conductor of the orchestra. .
"I am not the only one you are waiting for," she retorted.
"Precisely, we are waiting only for you, madame, and you know we have not come here to argue. . . . On with the rehearsal!"
"But I have not yet learned a single line. Let Kaczkowska sing . . . that is a part for her!"
"The part was given to you, wasn't it? . . . Well, then there's no use arguing! Let us begin."
"Oh, director! Can't we postpone it till this afternoon? Just now, it . . ."
"Begin!"
"Try it, Miss Nicolette . . . that part is well adapted to your voice. . . . I myself asked the director to give it to you," encouraged Mrs. Cabinska with a friendly smile.