Page:Poet Lore, volume 27, 1916.djvu/79

 ''he trembles and presses his handkerchief to his eyes. He sobs convulsively.'')

Hlaváček (Amazedly).—Why, why—Milo!

Dušek (Recovering).—Eh! (Waves his hand, quickly wipes his eyes and seeking to control himself, speaks.) You see—now—how—I feel

Hlaváček (Hearing a sound in the front hall).—Aha, now someone is coming! Will you stay with us?

Dušek.—Please don’t detain me. I feel horribly depressed here. Wherever I look, there are reminders—( enters the door, supporting on either arm and .)

Šimr (Catching sight of ).—Ah! What male-bird have we! Dušek! My Dušek! Look, girls

Dušek (Forcing himself to be cordial).—Good luck to you, Šimr! (Offers his hand.) You hardly know me any more, do you?

Šimr (Frankly).—Ah, my good fellow, I didn’t get so stuck up! (Stopping short.) There, little one, don’t get wrathy. You know my tongue gets away with me sometimes.

Réza.—We never get to see you any more, Mr. Dušek.

Dušek (Waving his hand).—Pshaw! Why should

Hlaváček.—Say, Šimr, Dušek may move in with us for awhile.

Šimr.—It’s all right with me. (To .) Do you want to?

Dušek (Shakes his head).—Oh, no, no—it was only a notion. I’d only be in the way.

Hlaváček.—Out with it, Kamilo, would you care to or not? Speak out, if you care to come in with us. Our janitor will move you, it’s only a few steps.

Bozena (Showing a bracelet).—Look, Mr. Dušek! See how deep Mr. Šimr went into his pocket.

Šimr (To ).—You see, my dear fellow, I got rid of a picture. That scene, you know. Oh, no, you didn’t see it.

Dušek (With secret misery).—You sold a picture?

Šimr.—Sure thing! They had begun to roast it in the papers but someone was easy enough to buy the picture anyway. (Gazing at .) Well, and you?

Dušek.—I haven’t a thing at the exhibition this year.

Šimr.—I know that. But what about the picture in the Christmas exhibit?

( hisses.)

Šimr.—Well—what?