The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [143]
Wokulski raised his head and noticed that his barber had gold links in his very grubby cuffs.
‘Fighting, sir, while we were dancing,’ the dandy went on, flashing a razor before Wokulski’s eyes, ‘and just think, one of them struck a lady as he was trying to kick someone else—just to show off! There was a hullaballoo, a duel…I was naturally chosen as second, but I really was in a fix today, only having the one pistol, when half an hour ago up comes the offender and said it would be stupid to fight, and that he might yield for once, seeing as how…Head a trifle to the right, s’il vous plaît…Well, and would you believe it, sir, I was so vexed I took him by the scruff of the neck, put my knee to his posterior and—off with him through the door. A genuine gent wouldn’t fight such a booby, sir, now would he? Face to the left, s’il vous plaît…’
He finished the shave, washed Wokulski’s face and, wrapping him up in a cloth like a criminal’s shroud, went on: ‘Fancy that now, but I never yet saw a trace of a lady in your house, sir, though I come at all times of day…’ He took out a brush and comb, and began combing his hair for him: ‘All times of day, sir, and I’ve an eye for such things, sir, I do assure you. But never a sight of a skirt, not to mention bloomers or a scrap of ribbon. Yet there was a time when I saw a pair of stays—in a Canon’s house, it was! True, he found them in the street and was going to post them (anonymously) to the newspaper. But, my dear sir, at the officer’s quarters, especially them hussars…(Head a fraction lower, s’il vous plaît…) Oodles of them! At one officer’s I met four young ladies, laughing their heads off, too. From then on I always bow to him in the street, mark my words, though he dropped me and still owes five roubles. But if I can afford six roubles a seat at the Rubinstein concert, then I’m not going to begrudge five roubles to such a virtuoso, now am I? Should I darken the hair a trifle, je suppose que oui?’
‘No, thanks,’ Wokulski replied.
‘I thought not,’ the barber sighed, ‘there isn’t a scrap of affectation about you, sir—but that’s bad! I know several ballet girls who’d be delighted to enter relations with you, sir. It would be worthwhile, upon my word! Splendidly built, muscles like iron, bosoms like spring mattresses, ever so graceful and not at all stuck-up, particularly when they’re still young. For the older a woman is, the more expensive she’ll be, no doubt that’s why no one wants an old thing of sixty, she’ll be too expensive. She’d make Rothschild go bankrupt! But you can give a beginner three thousand roubles a year, some little presents, and she’ll be faithful to you…Ah, the ladies, God bless ’em…They gave me the sciatica, but I can’t be cross with ’em…’
He finished his task, bowed according to the rules of etiquette and left, smiling; from his splendid appearance and the bag in which he carried his brushes and razors, you’d have taken him for an official from the Ministry.
After he had gone, Wokulski did not even think twice of the young and undemanding ballet girls. He was preoccupied by a very profound question, which could be paraphrased in two words: to wit, frock-coat or tail-coat? ‘If I wear a tail-coat I’ll look like a snob conforming to the conventions, which in the end do not bother me. But if I wear the frock-coat, I may offend the Łęckis. Besides, suppose someone else is present? Well, there’s no help for it—as I have my own carriage and race-horse, I must wear the tail-coat.’
Meditating thus, he could not help smiling at the depths of naivety into which his acquaintance with Izabela had thrust him: ‘Would old Hopfer or any of my university and Siberian friends ever imagine me worrying about such matters?’ he thought.
He put on his evening clothes, stood at the mirror and felt gratified. The close-fitting garments revealed his athletic frame to the best advantage.
The horses