Leon.—­Mme. Jadwiga, both our lives are tangled.  When I was most unhappy, when everything abandoned me, there remained with me the love of an idea—­love of the country.

Jadwiga (thoughtfully).—­The love of an idea—­country.  There is something great in that.  You, by each of your pictures, increase the glory of the country and make famous its name, but I—­what can I do?

Leon.—­The one who lives simply, suffers and quietly fulfils his duties—­he also serves his country.

Jadwiga.—­What duties?  Give them to me.  For every-day life one great, ideal love is not enough for me.  I am a woman!  I must cling to something—­twine about something like the ivy—­otherwise truly, sir, I should fall to the ground and be trampled upon (with an outburst).  If I could only respect him!

Leon.—­But, madam, you should remember to whom you are speaking of such matters.  I have no right to know of your family affairs.

Jadwiga.—­No.  You have not the right, nor are you obliged nor willing.  Only friendly hearts know affliction—­only those who suffer can sympathize.  You—­looking into the stars—­you pass human misery and do not turn your head even when that misery shouts to you.  It is your fault.

Leon.—­My fault!

Jadwiga.—­Do not frown, and do not close your mouth (beseechingly).  I do not reproach you for anything.  I have forgiven you long ago, and now I, the giddy woman whom the world always sees merry and laughing—­I am really so miserable that I have even no strength left for hatred.

Leon.—­Madam!  Enough!  I have listened to your story—­do not make me tell you mine.  If you should hear it a still heavier burden would fall on your shoulders.

Jadwiga.—­No, no.  We could be happy and we are not.  It is the fault of both.  How dreadful to think that we separated on account of almost nothing—­on account of one thoughtless word—­and we separated forever (she covers her face with her hands), without hope.

Leon.—­That word was nothing for you, but I remember it still with brain and heart.  I was not then what I am to-day.  I was poor, unknown, and you were my whole future, my aim, my riches.

Jadwiga.—­Oh, Mr. Leon, Mr. Leon, what a golden dream it was!

Leon.—­But I was proud because I knew that there was in me the divine spark.  I loved you dearly, I trusted you—­and nothing disturbed the security around me.  Suddenly one evening Mr. Karlowiecki appeared, and already the second evening you told me that you gave more than you received.

Jadwiga.—­Mr. Leon!

Leon.—­What was your reason for giving that wound to my proud misery?  You could not already have loved that man, but as soon as he appeared you humiliated me.  There are wrongs which a man cannot bear with dignity—­so those words were the last I heard from you.

Jadwiga.—­Truly.  When I listen to you I must keep a strong hand on my senses.  As soon as the other appeared you gave vent to a jealous outburst.  I said that I gave more than I took, and you thought I spoke of money and not sentiment?  Then you could suspect that I was capable of throwing my riches in your face—­you thought I was capable of that?  That is why he could not forgive!  That is why he went away!  That is why he has made his life and mine miserable!