God knows how many
breasts sigh for you. Every one can have your works, every one can
approach you, see you, be proud of you. I alone, your playmate, your
old friend, I alone am as though excommunicated.
Leon.--But Mme. Jadwiga--
Jadwiga.--Ah, you have called me by my name. I thank you and beg your
pardon. It is the self-love of a woman, nothing more. It is my nerves.
Do not be frightened. You see how dangerous it is to irritate me.
After one of my moods I am unbearable. I will give you three days to
think the matter over. If you do not wish to come, write me then (she
laughs sadly). Only I warn you, that if you will neither come nor
write me, I will tell every one that you are afraid of me, and so
I will satisfy my self-love. In the mean time, for the sake of my
nerves, you must not tell, me that you refuse my request. I am a
little bit ill--consequently capricious.
Leon.--In three days you shall have my answer (rising), and now I will
say good-bye.
Jadwiga.--Wait a moment. This is not so easy as you think. Truly, I
would think you are afraid of me. It is true that they say I am a
coquette, a flirt. I know they talk very badly about me. Besides we
are good acquaintances, who have not seen each other for two years.
Let us then talk a little. Let me take your hat. Yes, that is it!
Now let us talk. I am sure we may become friends again. As for me at
least--what do you intend to do in the future besides painting my
portrait?
Leon.
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