The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [112]
‘That must be Mme Krzeszowska,’ Wokulski thought.
Then he heard an unmistakable sound, and a stream of water poured down from the third floor, hitting the outstretched head of the Baroness and splashing all over the yard. ‘Marysia, come up here!’ the bass voice shouted.
‘You cads!’ Baroness Krzeszowska cried, looking upwards. Another stream of water shot out of the third-floor window and cut off her words in midstream.
Simultaneously a young man with a black beard leaned out and, catching sight of Mme Krzeszowska’s countenance, exclaimed in a bass voice: ‘Oh it’s you, madam—pardon me, I beg…’
He was answered from within Mme Krzeszowska’s apartment by the spasmodic sobbing of a female voice: ‘Oh woe is me! I vow it was that scoundrel himself who set those bandits upon me…He repays me thus for saving him from poverty, for buying that horse of his…’
Meanwhile, down below, the laundry-women ironed linen, the shoemaker was hammering on the third floor, and in the second-floor back, the pianoforte resounded and a shrill scale was heard: ‘Do re mi fa…’
‘A cheerful house, no doubt about it,’ Wokulski thought, shaking off the drops of water which had fallen on his sleeve. He went out into the street, looked once again at the property of which he was to become owner, then turned back to Aleje Jerozolimskie. Here he took a droshky and drove to the lawyer’s.
In the lawyer’s waiting room, he found a couple of shabby Jews and an old woman with a kerchief around her head. Through the open door to the left were visible cupboards full of documents, three clerks writing rapidly and some city visitors, one of whom looked like a criminal, and the other two who looked very bored.
An old usher with grey whiskers and suspicious look took Wokulski’s coat, and asked: ‘Will your business take long, sir?’
‘No, a very short time.’
He showed Wokulski into a room to the right: ‘Whom shall I announce?’ Wokulski gave him his card and was left alone.
The room contained furniture covered in purple tapestry, as in first-class railway carriages, some ornamental cupboards with richly bound books which looked as though no one had ever read them, and a few magazines and albums on the table, which everyone had apparently handled. In one corner was a plaster statue of the goddess Temida, with bronze lips and grubby knees.
‘This way please,’ said a servant. The eminent lawyer’s study contained furniture covered in brown leather, with brown curtains in the windows and brown paper on the walls. He himself was dressed in a brown frock-coat, and was holding a very long pipe in one hand, with an amber stopper and a little feather.
‘I thought I would have the honour of welcoming you here, my dear sir,’ said the lawyer, drawing an armchair towards Wokulski and straightening the carpet, which was slightly crumpled, with one foot. ‘In a word,’ the lawyer went on, ‘we may count on contributions of some three hundred thousand roubles for the partnership. And you may be sure we shall go to the notary public as fast as possible and obtain the cash down to the last penny.’ He said this, laying emphasis on the more important words, pressed Wokulski’s arm, then observed him narrowly.
‘Ah yes—the partnership,’ Wokulski echoed as he sat down, ‘but it is the business of the other gentlemen as to how much cash they can lay hands on…’
‘Well, it is always capital, you know,’ the lawyer interposed.
‘I have capital without the partnership…’
‘Proof of confidence, then…’
‘My own word suffices…’
The lawyer fell silent and hastily began puffing smoke out of his pipe.
‘I have a request to make,’ Wokulski said after a moment. The lawyer fixed him with a look, seeking to divine what it was. His manner of listening would depend on its nature. But he evidently divined nothing dangerous, since his visage took on an expression of grave but cordial benevolence.
‘I wish to buy a house,’ Wokulski went on.
‘So soon?’ the lawyer inquired, raising his brows and lowering his head, ‘I congratulate you, indeed I