Page:Poet Lore, volume 27, 1916.djvu/47

 in favor of my friend Dušek.

Helen (With comical surprise).—Man, man,—but you’re witty!

Fořt (Blissfully).—I should say so! (Bowing, departs.)

Helen.—Mr. Dušek, it appears, has been wholly entranced by those artistes in the four-handed performance! (Laughs.) Or by Miss Bukovský? Or Clara?

Dušek.—Miss

Helen.—Ah, Clara? Don’t try to compete with Vlasák.

Dušek.—Is it the truth?

Helen.—About Vlasák and Clara? Why yes, Mrs. Daneš is already telling of it publicly.

Dušek.—And Dr. Vlasák?

Helen.—I beg of you! Clara is a wealthy catch—and that’s enough. (Seats herself.) Do you care to stay here a while with me? Or do you want to listen to Bláha?

Dušek (Glowing).—Oh, Miss Lindner—if you’ll allow

Helen (Indicates with a wave of her hand the divan where she herself is sitting).—Come, sit down.

( seats himself.)

Helen.—It’s rather tiresome back there, isn’t it?

( is silent.)

Helen (After a while).—Tell me, what you are doing nowadays. It’s a pity you’re not a landscape artist; there must be plenty of motifs in the snow covered plains and drifted forests for landscapists, don’t you think so? When the sun vanishes in the mists and everything is lost in the grayness—(A pause.) Do you remember the other day how we rode in the sleigh from Zbraslavi? Did you notice how Novák frowned when we were getting into the sleigh because you and not he sat in our sleigh?

Dušek (Laughing).—Poor Novák! He hardly spoke to me that evening.

Helen (Leaning backward).—By the way, why don’t you ever paint landscapes? Oh, if I only had your brush! I’d like to paint a vast winter landscape—monotonous, immeasurable.

Dušek.—Paint it, Miss Helen! You can do it better than I.

( laughing softly.)

Dušek.—Oh, indeed you can! You surely don’t think I’m flattering you? For scarcely a year have I been allowed to slightly cultivate your technique of form—and ere long I shall be useless to you!

Helen (Gazing at him).—Useless? Oh, now you are cruel!