in a minute, so please wait. (Going inside.) To the right, then (Goes in.)
Petr (confused; stands in the midst of the courtyard).
Kocianova (after a pause).—Really, really—I cannot get it into my head. And that this should be that little Marenka Preisova from Prague. Petrichek
Petr (rousing).—Yes, yes, but I have changed, too, maminka.
Kocianova.—You I have not lost from my sight, my dear boy, and so it does not seem so strange.
Petr.—And then I grew up differently.
Kocianova.—And how sincere and cordial she is! Would you believe that when I saw her the first time I really did not know what to say to her? But she came to me at once, with a “My dear Mrs. Kocianova,” and kissed me just like my own child.
Petr.—She must have met with but little love in this world.
Kocianova.—Yes, the poor thing, since her fifteenth year without a mother or a father! And in her best years!
Petr.—And still she went independently through life. A little girl fighting life’s battle unaided, single handed. Think of that, maminka! And in those years I was only a petty gymnasium student. And even to-day I am—nothing.
Kocianova.—But you soon will be, God willing
Petr.—A forgotten country parson.
Kocianova.—Believe me, my boy, that is something even greater than her calling. Well, I don’t know. Only if she is as good a girl as she seems. Surely, it is a gift from God that she attained to all these things—but I don’t know what and how it is—I don't know yet.
Petr.—Without doubt it is something beautiful and great. See how free and unrestrained she is in her talk to us and her actions. Wonderful! When I was in the gymnasium I went to the theater now and then, and it seemed to me that these women were really not women at all, just as if some master created an ideal being and it was artistically placed upon the stage. One of the actresses lived near our house at the time when I lived with old Mrs. Morfeit. And she was a wonderful woman. I always thought that I would die of embarrassment if she should ever speak to me on the street. And that’s the way I have always imagined all actresses were.
Kocianova.—I don’t understand those things at all. One hears about it once in a while, but never knows about it. But when I look
