The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [105]
‘Well?’ Wokulski replied.
Had he been standing on a scaffold he would not have experienced such a terrible feeling as he did at this moment. He was certain it concerned Izabela and that his fate was about to be decided on this spot.
‘You were once interested in natural sciences?’ Ochocki asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And also you were enthusiastic. I know what you went through, I have long respected you for that…No, this is inadequate: I must add that for a year recollections of the difficulties you encountered have encouraged me. I told myself I would do at least as much as that man, and since I was faced with such obstacles, I would go even further…’
Listening to this, Wokulski thought he was dreaming or listening to a madman: ‘How do you know all this?’ he asked Ochocki.
‘From Dr Szuman.’
‘Ah, Szuman…But what is it all leading up to?’
‘I shall tell you,’ Ochocki replied. ‘You were an enthusiast of the natural sciences, but in the end you rejected them. At what age did your interest in this field weaken?’
Wokulski felt as though he had been struck by an axe. The question was so bitter and so unexpected that for a moment he could not reply or even collect his thoughts. Ochocki repeated the question, watching his companion sharply.
‘At what age?’ Wokulski said, ‘a year ago…I am now forty-six.’
‘So I have fifteen years until complete indifference sets in. That encourages me,’ said Ochocki, as if to himself.
After a moment he added: ‘That was one question; here’s the second, but please don’t be offended. At what age do men begin to feel…indifferent to women?’
A second blow. For an instant Wokulski felt like seizing the young man and throttling him. But he controlled himself and replied with a faint smile: ‘I think they never do. In fact, women come to look increasingly desirable…’
‘That’s bad,’ Ochocki whispered, ‘ha—we shall see who is the stronger.’
‘Women are, Mr Ochocki…’
‘Surely that depends, my dear sir,’ the young man replied, pondering again.
He began speaking as though to himself: ‘Woman—there’s a precious topic for you! I’ve been in love—let me see, how often? Four…six…about seven, yes, seven times. It takes up a great deal of time, and can lead a man into desperate thoughts. Love’s a foolish thing. You meet, you love, you suffer…Then you grow bored or are betrayed…And then you find another woman. Yes, I was bored twice and betrayed three times. Then you find a different woman, better than the others—and she behaves just like the others. Oh, what an abject race of creatures women are…They play with us, though their limited minds can’t even understand us. Well, it’s true that even a tiger can play with a man…Abject, but how delightful…But never mind this! For when an idea gains domination over a man, it will never desert him, never deceive him…’
He put one hand on Wokulski’s arm, looked at him with a sort of ecstatic and dreamy gaze, then asked: ‘You once had the idea of a flying machine, didn’t you? Not a guided balloon, which is lighter than air, for that is nothing—but of the flight of a heavy machine, weighed down like a battleship. Do you appeciate what a turning-point for the world such an invention would be?…No more forts, armies, frontiers…Nations will disappear, while beings like angels or classical gods in heavenly vehicles will inhabit the earth. We have already harnessed the wind, heat, light, the thunderbolt. Do you not think, my dear sir, that the time has come for us to liberate ourselves from the bonds of gravity? It’s an idea which is still in the womb of time…Other men are already working on it; it has only just seized me, but it holds me enthralled. What’s my aunt to me, with all her good advice and laws of decorum? What are marriage, women, even microscopes and electric lamps? I’ll either go mad—or give mankind wings…’
‘Suppose you do—what then?’ Wokulski asked.
‘Fame—such as no man has ever yet attained,’ Ochocki replied, ‘and that’s the wife, the woman for me. Goodbye, I must go…’ He shook Wokulski’s hand, ran down the hill and disappeared