Page:Poet Lore, volume 27, 1916.djvu/55

 (Laughing) and aged suitors? (Again changing her tone) Ugh! Am I to sell myself? (She places both palms on Vlasák’s shoulders and gazes intently into his eyes.) Victor, was it not better this way?

Vlasák (Confused).—You are a demon, Helen!

Helen (Laughs nervously).—But you won’t marry me, will you? I would not even want you to! I like you too well to pay for you so cheaply, if it doesn’t have to be. (Pats him with her fan.) There, there, Viki—marry rich, make a career,—even if you have a wicked mother-in-law and good children— (Bursts into a hysterical laugh.)

Vlasák (Abashed).—Helen, every man is a rascal, isn’t he?

Helen.—So they say! And happy the woman who doesn’t find it out! (Thoughtfully.) Or are those happier who learn it in time? (A pause.) Indeed, what would I have had if I had married at twenty as Clara is doing now? I would now be a deceived wife, also. And possibly loveless, without feeling! (Tossing her head.) I am as I am! And if some one must suffer for all other men,— (Ardently) Victor, it must not be you!

Vlasák.—Helen, would you care to be my wife?

Helen (Laughs harshly).—Madman! Women like me don’t marry. At least, not the men who know them—or else not until they are compromised before the world. (In an ordinary tone.) What a household that would be! (Earnestly.) And does my Victor think I would be faithful to him? ( is silent.)

Helen.—There, see! A relationship like ours, sweetheart, is something different from marriage.

Vlasák (Embraces her, drawing her close to him).—Helen!

Helen (Fervently kisses him on the forehead).—There—and now you have absolution! You were near to overflowing, just like Dušek. (Laughs) That Dušek, what a husband he would be! How he’d trust me!

Vlasák.—But—Helen, dear!

Helen (Laughing).—You don’t think—? Victor! But I like him, truly. Such an exotic perfume of our social set! (Mischievously.) And after all perhaps it might even be a happy marriage. A worn out generation, my friend, occasionally needs a little fresh blood in its veins.

Vlasák.—Dušek didn’t live otherwise in his former life, I know that!

Helen.—Then it’s the change of air. In our atmosphere