Hlaváček.—Do you paint with your ears? (He rises, and goes sidling across the atelier towards Dušek, and looks at his sketch.) Fffff–f! (Seriously.) Kamilo, what about this Lindner woman?
Dušek.—What about her? Why, I’m going to paint her, as you see.
Hlaváček.—I’m not asking that! Why doesn’t that woman get married? She doesn’t lack much of being thirty.
Dušek (Provoked).—You gossiping old woman. You do not even know Miss Lindner.
Hlaváček.—I should say I did know her. From the street. Well, and—She isn’t one of the youngest.
Dušek (Irritated).—And what’s that to me?
Hlaváček (Sauntering about atelier with his hands in his pockets).—And yet she’s a good-looking woman! Such an odd sort of beauty. You’ll paint with a zest, Dušek. (He makes a hissing sound.) To paint her—well—that wouldn’t be a bad idea—but to marry her?
Dušek (Disturbed).—Another piece of gossip?
Hlaváček (Indifferently).—Oh, not at all! (Turns around.) Dušek, do you know Dr. Vlasák? They say he’s running after her.
Dušek (With apparent indifference).—Don’t you believe it. Vlasák is a climber. And he won’t marry anyone but a rich bride.
Hlaváček.—That’s just it!
Dušek.—Don’t think for a minute that Miss Lindner’s dowry would suffice for him. My good fellow, you don’t know that sort of people; if your dowry is under fifty thousand, they won’t speak to you.
Hlaváček.—And the Lindner woman hasn’t that much?
Dušek (Forcing himself to laugh).—Hlaváček, what’s gotten into your head?
Hlaváček.—Well, hasn’t she?
Dušek.—Maybe, later on, when she inherits something from her aunt.
Hlaváček.—By that time I wouldn’t marry her! (Merrily) Dušek, you have a long wait ahead of you!
Dušek (Bursts out).—Ass!
Hlaváček (Laughing).—And you are my—! (A pause.)
Dušek (Throws down his crayon and buries his head in his hands).—Oh! Oh! Oh!
