The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [145]
Thou art thyself though, not a Montague.
…What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name;
And for thy name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.’
What a strange likeness there was between the two of them—Rossi the actor, and she, Miss Łęcka. Refuse thy name…Yes, but what would be left? Yet even a princess might marry Rossi, and the world would only admire her sacrifice. To marry Rossi…to look after his theatrical wardrobe, perhaps sew buttons on his night-shirts? Izabela was taken aback. To love him hopelessly—that sufficed. To love him and sometimes talk to someone about this tragic love…Perhaps to Flora? No, she hadn’t enough feeling. Much better talk to Wokulski. He would look into her eyes, would suffer both for himself and for her, she would tell him and mourn over her own and his sufferings, and in this manner the hours would pass very agreeably. A haberdasher for a confidant! One could forget his trade, of course …
Simultaneously, Tomasz was twirling his grey whiskers and walking about in his study, thinking: ‘Wokulski’s a very clever and energetic fellow. If I’d had such a right-hand man (he sighed) I should not have lost my fortune. But it can’t be helped, and I have him today. The sale of the house should leave me with forty—no, fifty—thousand, perhaps sixty thousand roubles…Well, let us not exaggerate: say fifty thousand, or only forty thousand…I’ll let him have it, he will pay me some eight thousand roubles a year interest, and the rest (if matters prosper in his hands as I trust), I’ll have him invest the rest of the interest. The sum will double in five or six years, and in ten may be quadrupled…Because money increases fantastically in commerce. But what am I saying? If Wokulski is really a businessman of genius, he ought and certainly will get a hundred per cent. In that case, I’ll look him in the eye and tell him point-blank: ‘You can pay others fifteen or twenty per cent yearly, but not me, for I understand these matters.’ And he, of course, seeing whom he is dealing with, will yield at once and may even produce an income beyond my wildest dreams…’
The bell in the vestibule rang twice. Tomasz retired into the depths of his study and sat down, taking a volume of economics by Supinski for the occasion. Mikołaj opened the door and in a moment Wokulski appeared.
‘Ah, how are you?’ Tomasz exclaimed, stretching out a hand. Wokulski bowed low before the white hair of the man he would have been glad to call ‘Father’.
‘Sit down, Stanisław. A cigarette?…Pray do…What’s the latest? I’m just reading Supinski’s book—a clever fellow, that! Yes indeed—nations who do not know how to work and economise must disappear from the face of the earth…Economy and work, that’s the ticket! All the same, our partners are beginning to look sour, you know.’
‘Let them do as they choose,’ Wokulski replied, ‘I am not profiting by a single rouble of theirs.’
‘I shall never desert you, Stanisław,’ said Tomasz, in a firm tone, adding after a moment: ‘I am selling or at least having my house sold in a few days. I’ve had a great deal of trouble with it; the tenants don’t pay their rent, the caretakers are rascals, and I had to satisfy the mortgagees out of my own pocket. It’s not surprising that in the end it grew tedious.’
‘Of course not,’ Wokulski interposed.
‘And I hope,’ Tomasz went on, ‘that fifty or at least forty thousand roubles will be left to me.’
‘How much do you hope to get for the house?’
‘Oh, a hundred, or up to a hundred and twenty thousand. And I’ll place whatever I get in your hands, Mr Stanisław.’
Wokulski nodded in agreement, and thought that all the same Tomasz was not going to get more than ninety thousand for his house. This was the amount he had at his disposal just then and he could not incur debts without damaging his credit.
‘And I will place it all in your hands, Stanisław,’ Mr Łęcki went on, ‘I merely wanted