Prince.—­You, Robespierre, come and have a cigar.  Thank you, my boy.  You have rid me of the countess.

Doctor.—­I will send for Pretwic, and we will join you. (He rings the bell.  A servant comes in—­the prince and Drahomir go out.) Ask Mr. Pretwic to come here. (The servant goes out.)

Doctor (alone).—­Anton was right.  I am helping along the logic.  But I do not like the sap—­because I am accustomed to break. (Pretwic enters.)

SCENE XII.

Pretwic.  Jozwowicz.

George.—­I was looking for you.

Doctor.—­The prince has invited us to smoke a cigar with him.

George.—­Wait a moment.  For God’s sake tell me what it means.  Stella changes while looking at her—­there is something heavy in the air.  What does it mean?

Doctor.—­That melancholy is the mode now.

George.—­You are joking with me.

Doctor.—­I know nothing.

George.—­Excuse me.  The blood rushes to my head.  I see some catastrophe hanging over me.  I thought you would say something to pacify me.  I thought you were my friend.

Doctor.—­Do you doubt it?

George.—­Shake hands first.  Then give me some advice.

Doctor.—­Advice?  Are you ill?

George (with an effort).—­Truly, you play with me as a cat with a mouse.

Doctor.—­Because I know nothing of presentiments.

George.—­Did you not tell me that she is not ill?

Doctor.—­No, she is wearied.

George.—­You speak about it in a strange way and you have no conception of the pain that your words cause me.

Doctor.—­Then try to distract her.

George.—­What?  Who?

Doctor.—­Who?  Count Drahomir, for instance.

George.—­Is she fond of him?

Doctor.—­And he of her also.  Such poetical souls are always fond of each other.

George.—­What do you mean by that?

Doctor (sharply).—­And you—­how do you take my words?

George (rises.)—­Not another word.  You understand me, and you must know that I do not always forgive.

Doctor (rises also, approaches George and looks into his eyes).—­I believe you wish to frighten me.  Besides this, what more do you wish?

George (after a moment of struggle with himself).—­You must ask me what I did wish, because I do not now wish for anything.  You have known her longer than I have, therefore I came to you as her friend and mine, and for answer you banter with me.  In your eyes there shone hatred for me, although I have never wronged, you.  Be the judge yourself!  I would be more than right in asking you:  What do you wish of me, if it were not for the reason (with pride) that it is immaterial to me. (He goes out.)

Doctor.—­We shall see.

SCENE XIII.

Jozwowicz.  Servant.