is going with the ladies.) Ah, so you’ll escort us—(Departing. A stir in the front hall.)
Helen (Laughing in the front hall).—It seems to me, Mr. Dušek, it seems to me—!
(Hlaváček accompanies the party as far as the door and then returns to the studio with an easy, swinging step.)
Dušek (Laughingly in front hall).—I could convince you, Miss Lindner. (A pause.) My deepest respects. Yes, yes, with absolute assurance. My respects. (The front door closes. Dušek returns to the studio.)
Hlaváček (As soon as Dušek enters, Hlaváček snaps his fingers and turns on his heel).—Well, we’re in it, now!
Dušek (Still excited by his callers now looks surprisedly at Hlaváček.)—What the devil is the matter with you again? (At that instant the bell in the front hall rings violently to the rhythm of a military march).
Hlaváček.—Still another caller? Is the stream of our visitors to be uninterrupted today?
Dušek.—Well, they don’t distract you from work! (Renewed ringing.) Very likely it’s that wild Šimr!
(Hlaváček has gone to the front hall.)
(Dušek stops in front of a small easel and involuntarily gazes at the photograph of Helen.)
Hlaváček (In the front hall where he is unlocking the door).—Why, Šimr, my respects to you! How does it happen you’re going so early?
Šimr (Entering the studio).—Your servant, Dušek!
Dušek (Excited).—Your servant!
Šimr.—I couldn’t wait till Réza came; I met her way up by the bridge. (A pause.) Were those women who were coming down the stairs up here to see you?
Hlaváček.—That is—to see Dušek.
Šimr.—Who is it?
Hlaváček (Tosses his head).—Dušek is painting her. Miss Lindner. Do you know her?
Šimr (Whistles shrilly).—And so that’s the Lindner? (To Dušek.) Ha, ha—Dušek, that’s something, isn’t it?
Dušek (Explosively).—What’s something?
Šimr (Laughing).—Well, so, so! That other one—does she watch her?
Dušek (Becoming wrathy).—Shut up, Šimr, will you?
Šimr.—Ah—in order not to drag down your scutcheon, so?
