"How long will you stick to that truth?"
"Perhaps forever, if I can find nothing better."
"Piesh, to the stage!" came the voice of the stage-director.
The actor arose stiffly, and with a quick, automatic step, went behind the scenes.
"A curious, a very curious fellow!" whispered the counselor.
"Yes, but very tiresome with his ever-lasting truths, ideals, and other foolish haberdashery!" cried a young actor dressed like a doll in a light suit, a pink-striped shirt and yellow calf-skin pumps.
"Ah, Wawrzecki! . . . You must have again slain some innocent beauty, for your face is as radiant as the sun . . ."
"It's easy for you to joke, Mr. Counselor! . . ." he defended himself with a knowing smile, advancing his shapely foot. He posed gracefully, raised his hand, and flashed his jeweled rings, for the directress was gazing at him through half-closed eyes.
"Well then, in your estimation who is not tiresome, eh? . . . Come now, confess my boy!"
"The counselor, for he has humor and a good heart; the director when he pays; the public when it applauds us; pretty and kind women, the spring, if it is warm; people, when they are happy, all that is beautiful pleasant and smiling; while tiresome things are all those that are ugly: cares, tears, suffering, poverty, old age and cold. . . ."