The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [144]
XVI
‘She’, ‘He’ and the Others
ON THE DAY Wokulski was expected to dinner, Izabela came home from the Countess’s at five. She was somewhat vexed and very languid and altogether perfectly lovely.
This day had brought her good fortune and disappointment. The great Italian tragedian, Rossi, whom she and her aunt had known in Paris, was in Warsaw for some performances. He called on the Countess at once, and asked anxiously about Izabela. He was to call again, and the Countess invited her niece. However, Rossi did not come; instead, he sent a letter to apologise for the disappointment and to excuse himself because of an unexpected visit from a high-ranking personage.
In Paris some years ago Rossi had been Izabela’s ideal; she fell in love with him, and did not even conceal her feelings—as far as possible for a young lady of her social standing, of course. The celebrated actor knew this, called at the Countess’s home every day, performed and recited everything Izabela asked for, and when he left for America, presented her with an Italian version of Romeo and Juliet, with a dedication: ‘Heaven is here where Juliet lives…’
The news that Rossi had come to Warsaw and had not forgotten her excited Izabela. By one o’clock that afternoon, she was with her aunt. Every now and again she went to the window, every rattle hastened the beating of her heart, she jumped every time the bell rang: she forgot what she was talking about, bright blushes appeared on her face…But Rossi did not come.
And today she was beautiful. She had dressed especially for him, in a silk dress of cream colour (from a distance it looked like crushed linen), she had diamond earrings (no bigger than pea-seeds) and a red rose at her throat. And nothing came of it. But let Rossi be the one to regret not coming…
After waiting four hours she came home offended. Despite her fury, she picked up the copy of Romeo and Juliet, looked through it, and thought: ‘Suppose Rossi were suddenly to come here…It would be even better here than at the Countess’s.’ With no witnesses present, he could whisper feverish phrases to her; he would learn how she treasured his souvenir, and above all would find (as the looking-glass so clearly declared) that in this dress, with this rose, and seated in this gleaming blue armchair, she looked heavenly.
She recalled that Wokulski was coming to dinner, and shrugged involuntarily. The haberdashery tradesman seemed so ludicrous in comparison with Rossi, whom the whole world admired, that she was quite simply overcome with pity for him. Had Wokulski been on his knees to her at this moment, she might even have stroked his hair, played with him as she would with a big dog, and read Romeo’s complaint to Lawrence:
‘Heav’n is here
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in Heaven and may look on her;
But Romeo may not: more validity.
More honourable state, more courtship lives
In carrion flies than Romeo: they may seize
On the white wonder of dear Juliet’s hand,
And steal immortal blessing from her lips:
…Flies may do this, but I from this must fly;
They are free men, but I am banished.
…O friar! the damned use that word in hell;
Howlings attend it; how hast thou the heart,
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,
A sin-absolver, and my friend professed,
To mangle me with that word “banished”?’
She sighed:—who knows how often the celebrated exile had thought of her while saying these lines? Perhaps he did not even have a confidant. Wokulski might be such a confidant; surely he knew how to yearn for her, since he had risked his life for her sake.
Turning a few pages back, she read:
‘O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet…
’Tis but