The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [131]
Rzecki folded his arms: ‘Oh my, what aren’t they saying?…’
‘Tell me outright,’ Wokulski encouraged him.
‘Outright? Very well. Some say you are going out of your mind…’
‘Bravo!’
‘Others, that…others that you are about to commit a swindle…’
‘What the devil?…’
‘And everyone agrees you are going bankrupt, and very soon, too.’
‘As always,’ Wokulski interrupted, ‘but what about you, Ignacy, what do you yourself think?’
‘I think,’ he replied unhesitatingly, ‘that you have got yourself involved in some terrible trouble, from which you will not escape whole—unless you retreat in time, which, after all, you have enough sense to do…’
Wokulski burst out: ‘I will not retreat!’ he exclaimed, ‘a thirsty man does not draw back from a well. If I am to perish, let me at least perish drinking…In any case, what is it you all want from me? Since childhood I have lived like a caged bird—in service, in prison, even in that unhappy marriage I sold myself into. But today, when my wings are opening, you all begin to hoot after me, like domestic geese at a wild one which has taken flight…What is some stupid shop or partnership to me? I want to live, I want…’
At this moment there was a knock at the study door. Łęcki’s butler Mikołaj appeared with a letter. Wokulski seized it feverishly, tore the envelope open and read:
Dear Mr Wokulski,
My daughter insists on making your closer acquaintance. A woman’s wish is sacred; therefore, I invite you to our house tomorrow for dinner (about six o’clock), and you must not even attempt to decline.
Kind regards,
T. Łęcki.
Wokulski felt so shaken he had to sit down. He read the note a second, third, fourth time…Finally he came to his senses. He replied to Mr Łęcki, and gave Mikołaj five roubles.
Ignacy had hurried into the shop for a few minutes, but when Mikołaj had gone, he returned to Wokulski and said, as if to start the conversation again: ‘All the same, dear Staś, consider the situation, and perhaps you will yourself draw back…’
Whistling softly to himself, Wokulski put on his hat and, with one hand on his old friend’s arm: said, ‘Listen. Even if the earth were to give way before my feet—do you understand? Even if the heavens collapsed—I shall not draw back, do you understand? I would give my life for such happiness…’
‘What happiness?’ Ignacy asked.
But Wokulski had already left by the back door.
XIV
Girlish Dreams
SINCE Easter, Izabela had often thought about Wokulski, and in all her ponderings, one unusual feature had impressed her: this man kept appearing in an ever different light.
Izabela had many acquaintances and possessed a good deal of wit at characterising people. All her acquaintances, hitherto, had had the quality of being definable in a single word. The Prince was a patriot; his lawyer shrewd; Count Liciński posed as an Englishman; her aunt was proud; the Duchess was good; Ochocki was an eccentric, and Krzeszowski a card-player. In a word: a man was a talent or a vice, sometimes a merit, more often a title or fortune—which had a head, arms and legs, and dressed itself more or less fashionably.
On meeting Wokulski, she had for the first time made the acquaintance, not only of a new personality, but also of an unexpected phenomenon. It was impossible to define him in a single word, or even in several hundred words. He was unlike everyone else, and if it was at all possible to compare him to anything, then perhaps it was to a place through which one travels all day, and where valleys and mountains, woods and lakes, water and desert, villages and towns are to be found. And where too, beyond the mists of the horizon, some vague landscapes appear, unlike anything known before. She was amazed and wondered whether this was the play of an excited imagination—or was he really a supernatural being, or at least a super-drawing-room one.
Then she began to enumerate her experiences with him.
The first time she had not seen him at all, had only felt the approach of some immense shadow. He was someone who threw away a few thousand roubles for her aunt’s charities and