The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [103]
As Wokulski did not answer, the lawyer began to regard him as a very skilled diplomat, and secretly regretted being so outspoken. ‘Anyway,’ he thought, looking furtively at Wokulski, ‘even if he repeats this to the Prince, what could the Prince do to me? I’ll say I wanted to test him…’
‘What kind of ambitions does he suspect me of?’ Wokulski asked himself privately.
He bade farewell to the Prince, promised to come to all future meetings and, going into the street, sent his carriage home. ‘What does this Ochocki want of me?’ he thought, suspiciously, ‘of course he is worried about Izabela…perhaps he means to frighten me away from her?…Fool! If she loves him, then he need not waste words; I will go away of my own accord…But if she does not love him, then let him beware of trying to remove me…I have committed one capital folly in my life, for Izabela’s sake. I hope it does not come down upon him, I should be sorry for the lad.’
Hasty footsteps sounded in the gateway: Wokulski turned and saw Ochocki. ‘Were you waiting? I’m sorry,’ the young man cried.
‘Shall we go to the Łazienki?’ Wokulski asked.
‘By all means.’
They walked for some time in silence. The young man was thinking; Wokulski was on edge. He made up his mind to take the bull by the horns: ‘You are a close relative of the Łęckis, then?’ he asked.
‘Fairly,’ the young man replied. ‘My mother was a Łęcka,’ he explained ironically, ‘though my father was merely an Ochocki. This has very much weakened any family ties…I would not be acquainted with Tomasz, who is a sort of second cousin, were it not that he has lost his money.’
‘Miss Łęcka is a very distinguished person,’ said Wokulski, gazing ahead.
‘Distinguished?’ Ochocki echoed, ‘say rather a goddess! When I am talking to her, I think she could fill my whole life for me. Only with her do I feel at peace and forget the uneasiness that haunts me. But there! I could not sit all day long with her in a drawing-room, nor could she stay with me in my laboratory.’
Wokulski stopped: ‘Are you interested in physics or chemistry?’ he asked in surprise.
‘Oh, what am I not interested in?’ Ochocki replied, ‘physics, chemistry, technology…I graduated in the natural sciences at the university and in mechanical engineering at the polytechnic. I am interested in everything: I read and work from morning to night—but do nothing. I have been able to improve the microscope a trifle, to build a new kind of electric lamp…’
Wokulski’s surprise intensified: ‘So you are Ochocki the inventor?’
‘Yes,’ the young man replied, ‘but what does that signify? Nothing. When I think that at the age of twenty-eight I have only achieved this, then despair overcomes me. I feel like smashing up my laboratory and plunging head-first into polite society, to which people are trying to attract me—or putting a bullet through my head. Ochocki’s electric lamp—how absurd! To rush headlong through life and finish up with an electric lamp—that is terrible. To reach the middle of life and not find even a trace of the road along which one wants to travel—what despair!’
The young man fell silent and, as they were now in the Botanical Gardens, took off his hat. Wokulski looked at him attentively, and made another discovery. Though the young man looked elegant, he was not at all smart: he even seemed careless of his appearance. He had tangled hair, his tie was somewhat crooked, and a button was undone on his shirt. It