The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [127]
‘Why didn’t you say I am not at home?’ Wokulski asked crossly.
‘I forgot,’ said the servant, frowning and shrugging.
‘Ask him into the hall, you fool,’ said Wokulski, and he slammed the study door.
Soon Maruszewicz appeared in the hall. He was already embarrassed, and became even more so when he saw that Wokulski received him with evident disfavour: ‘Excuse me…am I interrupting? Perhaps you have important business?’
‘I am doing nothing at the moment,’ Wokulski replied sullenly, and he flushed slightly. Maruszewicz noticed this. He was certain something was going on in the apartment—perhaps a woman was there. In any case, he regained his composure, which he always possessed in the presence of embarrassed people.
‘I will take only a moment of your valuable time,’ said the rundown young man more boldly, waving his cane and hat ingratiatingly.
‘Well, what is it?’ said Wokulski. He sat down heavily in an armchair and indicated another to his visitor.
‘I have come to apologise, my dear sir,’ said Maruszewicz affectedly, ‘because I am unable to be of any service in the auction of the Łęcki property.’
‘How do you know of the auction?’ Wokulski was openly startled.
‘Can’t you guess?’ asked the agreeable young man with the utmost self-possession, blinking imperceptibly, for he was still not quite sure of his facts, even yet, ‘can’t you guess, my dear sir? It was honest old Szlangbaum…’
Suddenly he fell silent, as if the unfinished phrase had been bitten off inside his open mouth, while his left hand holding the cane and his right hand with the hat sank to rest on the arms of his chair. Meanwhile Wokulski did not move, but fixed a clear stare upon him.
He traced the almost imperceptible shades of expression moving across Maruszewicz’s features as a hunter watches startled hares running over a fallow field. He eyed the young man and thought: ‘So this is the respectable Catholic gentleman Szlangbaum is hiring for the auction, at a fee of fifteen roubles—which he advised me not to pay in advance. Aha! And when he took the eight hundred for Krzeszowski’s mare he was somehow confused…Hm… And it was he who spread the news I had bought the mare…He is serving two masters: the Baron, and the Baron’s wife… Yes, but he knows too much about my affairs…Szlangbaum has been careless.’
Thus thought Wokulski as he coolly eyed Maruszewicz. But the decayed young man, who was moreover very nervous, wilted under the gaze like a dove eyed by a spotted snake. First he turned a little pale, then sought to rest his weary eyes on some indifferent object, which he looked for in vain on the walls and ceiling of the room, until finally, drenched in a cold sweat, he knew his wandering gaze could not escape Wokulski’s influence. It seemed to him that the sombre merchant had caught hold of his soul with grappling-irons, and there was no resisting him. So he shifted his head a few times more, then finally sank with complete surrender into Wokulski’s gaze.
‘My dear sir,’ he said sweetly, ‘I see I must lay all my cards on the table…So I will tell you at once…’
‘Please do not trouble, Mr Maruszewicz, I know all I need to know already.’
‘But, my dear sir, you have formed an unfavourable opinion of me, you have been misled by gossip. On my word of honour, I have the best intentions…’
‘Believe me, Mr Maruszewicz, I do not base my opinions on gossip.’
He rose from his chair and looked away, which enabled Maruszewicz to come back to his senses somewhat. The young man hastily bade Wokulski farewell, left the house and, as he ran hastily downstairs, thought: ‘Unheard of, upon my soul! A street-trader like that trying to impress me! There was a moment, I swear it, when I wanted to strike him with my cane…The impudence of the fellow, upon my soul…He is ready to think I’m afraid of him, upon my soul if he isn’t! Oh God, how gravely You are punishing me for my frivolity! Wretched