Page:Poet Lore, volume 27, 1916.djvu/52

 Mrs. Fabian.—My heavens!

Mrs. Daneš.—To be sure, who cares for five or ten dollars. You’ll gladly give it just as I do. But in the first place, there’s too much of it—and then, dear Lord, how can those people feel in our company when they know that every little while a collection has to be taken up for some one of them! Here a nation’s gift to an author, there a benefit for an actor who doesn’t even act any more, in a day or two, a monument to a poet

Mrs. Fabian (Tries to speak).—Please

Mrs. Daneš (Makes no pause in the flow of her eloquence).—Very good, very good,—we like to give, but once in a while it is overdone. It isn’t a matter concerning only those poverty stricken artists but at once they make out of it a sort of national duty and some people get glory out of helping to get the suscriptions. They want to get appreciation—and we have to do the paying!

Mrs. Fabian (Embarrassed).—We have run away from the music room. They will miss us. (Rising.) Come, let’s hear at least a little of the program.

Mrs. Daneš.—Mrs. Fabian won’t listen to a thing against those artist people! Oh, of course, of course, your daughters are halfway artists also

Mrs. Fabian (Glowingly).—I am proud of them. Every one praises them so much.

Mrs. Daneš.—Our Clara also plays. And sings. But now it’s all going to stop for there’ll be other worries. (Slips her arm through . (Confidentially.) Frankly speaking, Mrs. Fabian, I’ll be glad when that Dr. Vlasák speaks out. I’ve really had fear of Helen; she knows so well how to fascinate men! And I believe the doctor was more than half caught. By good fortune this artist is here now and he has somewhat broken off matters. (Confidentially.) But his falling in love is all in vain, believe me, all in vain! I’m almost sorry for the poor fellow; Dr. Nedoma said here not long ago that he isn’t even painting nowadays

Mrs. Fabian (Amazedly).—It isn’t possible! Such a talented fellow—I’ve heard! Why, that love ought to inspire him

Mrs. Daneš (Dryly).—I beg of you,—that love! What sort of match is it? Helen, to be sure, will some day be Mrs. Heller’s heiress—but she has a good while to wait! How much of being thirty does she lack? And Mrs. Heller is of my age, she won’t die right away. (A pause.) (The singing behind the scenes has