Page:Poet Lore, volume 27, 1916.djvu/62

 Dušek (Does not rise).—Please go ahead! I’ll wait.

Vlasák (With growing restlessness).—Forgive me, Mr. Dušek, but it’s high time I was going.

Dušek.—Good, we’ll go together and I’ll tell you on the way. (Rising.)

Vlasák (In impatient embarrassment).—That is—no I’ll have to stay here after all. (The bell rings again, this time more loudly.) Please, allow me Dušek (Who has, in the meantime, put on his coat, now grasps his hat).—I won’t detain you any longer. (Offers his hand to and is ready to go.)

Vlasák (Steps in front of him).—Allow me—I’ll open the door.

Dušek.—I’ll call on you tomorrow, may I? (Steps towards door.)

Vlasák (In great excitement).—But, I beg, that you wait a moment! (Points to chair.) Please wait an instant till I see who it is.

(The bell rings again.) Excuse me! (Departs and closes behind him the door that leads to the vestibule.)

( stands surprised in the middle of the room, not understanding excitement. Steps to the door of the vestibule then draws back and goes to the writing desk, shaking his head. He suddenly notices Helen’s photograph on the table, seizes it in amazement, and absorbed in thought, stands gazing at it. Then he lays it aside and walks across the room.)

Vlasák (Enters showing excitement).—It was the servant, at last! (Quickly). So, Mr. Dušek, pardon me, and tomorrow—we’ll meet again! Will you be in your studio in the morning?

( nods assent stiffly.)

Vlasák.—I’ll call on you, then, to save you the trouble of coming here. (Quickly.) Oh, that’s all right, all right! (Takes the lamp and accompanies him to vestibule.) At your service, Dušek, and don’t be angry at me! (They depart. It is wholly dark in the room. In a little while returns and sets the lamp on the writing desk. The stage becomes a little lighter at the left side from the rays of the lamp., after setting down the lamp, goes to the door of the bedroom and opening it, speaks to someone within, with a sigh of deep relief.) Thank heaven, I’ve gotten him out of the way!

Helen (In a simple dress—without her cloak which she has cast off in the bedroom, enters, drawing deep breaths—loosening, meanwhile, a black silk shawl on her head. Harshly.)—What did