Doctor.—­Very good.  What more?

Anton.—­Three days ago your election was doubtful in the suburbs.  I learned about it, however—­gathered the electors and made a speech.  “Citizens,” I said, in the end, “I know only one remedy for all your misery—­it is called Jozwowicz.  Long live Progress!” I also attacked the Conservative party.

Doctor.—­Anton, you are a great boy.  Then there is a hope of victory?

Anton.—­Almost a surety.  And then, even if we do not win now, the future is open to us.  And do you know why?  Because—­leaving out the details of the election, you and I, while talking of our business affairs, need not laugh at each other, like Roman augurs.  Progress and truth are on our side, and every day makes a new breach in the old wall.  We are only aiding the centuries and we must conquer.  I am talking calmly:  Our people, our electors are merely sheep, but we wish to make men of them, and therein lies our strength.  As for me, if I were not persuaded that in my principles lie truth and progress, I would spit on everything and become a monk.

Doctor.—­But it would be a dreadful thing if we do not win this time.

Anton.—­I am sure we will win.  You are a fearful candidate for our adversaries.  You have only one antagonist who is at all dangerous—­Husarski, a rich and popular nobleman.

Doctor.—­Once I am in parliament, I will try to accomplish something.

Anton.—­I believe in you, and for that reason I am working for you.  Ha! ha!  “They have already taken from us everything,” said Count Hornicki at the club yesterday, “importance, money—­even good manners.”  Well, at least I have not taken their good manners from them.  To the devil with them!

Doctor.—­No, you have truly not taken their good manners from them.

Anton.—­But it is said in the city that your prince has given a thousand florins to those whose houses were burned.  This may be bad for us.  You must do something also.

Doctor.—­I did what I could.

Anton.—­I must also tell you that yesterday—­What is the matter with you?  I am talking to you and you are thinking about something else.

Doctor.—­Excuse me.  I am in great trouble.  I cannot think as calmly as usual.

Anton.—­The idea!

Doctor.—­You could not understand it.

Anton.—­I am the coachman of the carriage in which you are riding—­I must know everything.

Doctor.—­No.  It does not concern you.

Anton.—­It does concern me, because you are losing your energy.  We have no need of any Hamlets.

Doctor (gloomily).—­You are mistaken.  I have not given up.

Anton.—­I see.  You close your mouth on this subject.  It is not in your character to give up.

Doctor.—­No.  You must work to have me elected.  I would lose doubly if we were bitten.

Anton.—­They must have burned you like the deuce, for you hiss dreadfully.