Cabinski proceeded to make a clean copy of the invitation, while
Pepa sat in a rocking-chair, puffing away at her cigarette.
"John! . . . Haven't you noticed anything peculiar about Majkowska's acting, recently?"
"No, nothing . . . if she performs a little spasmodically, that's merely her style."
"A little! . . . Why, she goes into epileptic fits! The editor told me the papers are calling attention to it."
"For God's sake, Pepa! Do you want to drive away our best actress?
You ousted Nicolette, who had a gallery of her own."
"Well, and you had a great liking for her too; I happen to know something about that."
"And I could tell you something about that editor of yours . . ."
"What business is that of yours! . . . Do I interfere when you go prowling about backrooms with chorus girls?"
"But neither do I ask you what you do! . . . So what's the use of quarreling about it? . . . Only I will not let you touch Majkowska! With you it's merely a question of intrigue, while with me it's one of existence. You know right well that there is not another such pair of heroic actors as Mela Majkowska and Topolski, anywhere in the provinces, and perhaps not even at the Warsaw Theater. To tell the truth, they are the sole props of our company! You want to oust Mela, do you? . . . I tell you she has the sympathy of the whole public, the press praises her . . . and she has real talent! . . ."
"And I? . . ." she asked threateningly, facing him.