"But, Mr. Editor, no one knows me; no one, as yet, knows whether I have talent . . ."
"You have talent, my word! My intuition tells me that. . . . Do not believe the testimony of the senses, mademoiselle, hold yourself aloof from all reasoning, throw to the dogs all calculations, but do not fail to believe intuition! . . ."
"Come here, editor . . . hurry!" called someone to him.
"Au revoir! au revoir!" he said, throwing a kiss to Janina and touching the brim of his hat as he disappeared.
Janina arose from her seat, but that same intuition which he had advised her to heed, told her not to take his words seriously. He seemed to her a light-headed individual given to hasty judgments. That promise of notices and articles in the papers and his extravagant praises of her talent seemed to her merely insincere twaddle. Even his face, gestures, and manner of speaking reminded her of a certain notorious braggart living in the vicinity of Bukowiec.
The second act of the play commenced.
Janina looked on, but it did not carry her away as the first had done.
"How do you like our theater? . . ." asked the brunette chorus girl, whom she had met in the dressing-room.
"Very well!" answered Janina.
"Bah! the theater is like a plague; when it infects anyone, you might as well say amen! . . ." whispered the brunette, her voice hard.