The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [116]
Maruszewicz introduced his companion to the director. ‘I was waiting for you, gentlemen, and am at your service…Mr Schultz!’
Mr Schultz ran in, a young fair-haired man also wearing a blue jacket, but still taller top-boots and tighter breeches. He took the emblem of directorial power with a military bow and before Wokulski left the ring, he saw that despite his youth, Schultz could yield the whip still more energetically than the director himself. For the second gentleman puffed, and the fourth began protesting querulously.
‘Sir,’ said the director to Wokulski, ‘you are taking over the Baron’s horse with all appurtenances: saddles, blankets and so forth?’
‘Of course…’
‘Then I must ask you for sixty roubles for stabling, which Baron Krzeszowski has not paid.’
‘It can’t be helped…’
They went into a small stable as airy as a living-room, even adorned with carpets, though not valuable ones. The stall was brand-new and full, and the ladder too; fresh straw was lying on the ground. All the same, the director’s sharp eye observed something wrong, for he shouted: ‘What does this mean, Mr Ksawery?…Upon my soul! D’you keep such things in your bedroom at home, then?’
A second assistant appeared for a moment. He took a look, disappeared, then in the corridor shouted: ‘Wojciech! What the devil’s this? Clean it up at once, or I will make you eat it…’ ‘Stefan, you booby,’ came a third voice from behind a partition, ‘if you leave the stable in this state once more, you young puppy, I’ll make you lick it up…’ Several loud thumps were heard at the same time, as if someone had seized someone else’s head and was banging it against a wall. Soon Wokulski saw through the stable window a young man with metal buttons on his jacket, who ran into the yard for a broom and, having found one, accidentally struck a staring Jew on the head with it. Being a natural scientist, Wokulski was surprised by this variation on the law of the preservation of energy, by which the director’s anger was vented upon a person not connected with the riding-school at all.
Meanwhile, the director ordered the horse to be brought into the passage. It was a beautiful animal with slim legs, small head and eyes which looked both clever and wistful. As she came out, the mare turned her head to Wokulski, sniffing at him, and snorting, as if she recognised her master.
‘She knows you already,’ said the director, ‘give her a lump of sugar…A beautiful mare!’ With this, he brought a piece of some grubby substance, smelling rather of tobacco, out of his pocket. Wokulski gave it to the mare, who ate it without more ado.
‘I’ll wager fifty roubles she will win,’ the director cried, ‘are you game?’
‘Of course,’ Wokulski replied.
‘She is bound to win. I’ll give her a first-rate jockey, and have him ride according to my instructions. Had she remained the property of Baron Krzeszowski—devil take me, but she’d have come in last, mark my words. But then, I would not have kept her in the stables, even.’
‘The director is still upset,’ Maruszewicz interrupted with a sweet smile.
‘Upset!’ the director cried, flushing with rage, ‘let Mr Wokulski judge whether I could keep on good terms with anyone who tells people I sold a horse in Lublin which had cholera!