how he got there, waves both hands towards the wings, revealing by this gesture that he is a mere nothing, that the players have done all. Well, if you must have it at all costs, then still another and another and another bow—what joy it is, this undeserved success. Pooh! Finally the author is able to stagger from the stage: all at once he is suddenly abandoned, feels himself superfluous, while the scene-shifters tear down the walls of the room (it is but the end of the first act), fix something, carry furniture away, making him feel in the way of every one.
“Hurry up there,” shouts the producer, while the author flings himself into his arms. “Mr. Producer, everything went off splendidly, splendidly.”
“We must be thankful it didn’t go off worse,” replies the producer dryly.
“And listen,” cries the author enthusiastically, seizing the producer by a coat button, “couldn’t Clara sit on the hat in the beginning? I think that it would make the people laugh.”
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