The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [150]
His shop was closed, but a light twinkled through an opening in the shutters: ‘They’re still busy,’ Wokulski thought.
He turned into the gate, and entered the shop through the back door. On the threshold he met Zięba, who said goodnight and bowed low; there were still several people inside the shop. Klein was ascending a ladder to straighten something on the shelves; Lisiecki was putting on his overcoat, and behind the cash-desk was Rzecki, with a ledger in front of him, and a man, weeping, standing before him.
‘The boss!’ Lisiecki exclaimed. Shading his eyes with one hand, Rzecki glanced up at Wokulski; Klein bowed to him several times from the top of the ladder, while the weeping man suddenly turned around and sank at his feet with a loud groan.
‘What’s this?’ Wokulski asked in surprise, recognising the old cashier Oberman.
‘He has lost over four hundred roubles,’ Rzecki replied sternly, ‘of course there was no fraud, I’ll take my oath on that, but even so the firm cannot be the loser, particularly as Mr Oberman has several hundred roubles saved with us. So—one of two things,’ Rzecki went on crossly, ‘either Mr Oberman pays up, or Mr Oberman loses his position. We’d do good business, indeed, if all our cashiers were like Mr Oberman.’
‘I’ll repay the money, sir,’ said the cashier, sobbing, ‘I’ll pay it back, but let me spread it over a few years at least. The five hundred roubles I have saved with you is my whole fortune. My boy has finished school and wants to study for a doctor, and old age is just around the corner…God knows—and so do you, sir—how a man has to work before he can put by so much money. I’d have to be born again to make as much…’
Klein and Lisiecki, both dressed to leave, awaited the verdict of their principal.
‘Yes,’ Wokulski exclaimed, ‘the firm cannot be the loser. Oberman must repay.’
‘Very well, sir,’ the unhappy cashier murmured.
Messrs Klein and Lisiecki said goodnight and left. Sighing, Oberman started to go after them. But when the three of them were alone, Wokulski hastily added: ‘Oberman, repay the money and I’ll refund it to you…’
The cashier sank at his feet. ‘Come, come,’ Wokulski interrupted, ‘if you say a single word to anyone about this arrangement, I shall take my gift back—mind that, Oberman?…Otherwise they’ll all decide to lose us some money. So go home and say nothing…’
‘I understand, sir. May God send you the very best of everything,’ the cashier replied and went out, trying in vain to conceal his joy.
‘He already has,’ Wokulski said, thinking of Izabela.
Rzecki was not pleased: ‘You know, Staś,’ he exclaimed, when they were alone, ‘you would do better not to interfere in the running of the shop. I knew in advance you would not make him repay the whole amount, I wouldn’t have asked that myself. But the booby ought to have paid a hundred roubles or so, as punishment…In the end, the devil take it, he might have been forgiven the whole amount; but he should have been kept in suspense at least a few weeks…Otherwise we might as well shut up shop once and for all.’
Wokulski laughed: ‘I’d be afraid of the anger of Heaven,’ he replied, ‘had I done anyone an injustice on a day like this.’
‘A day like what?’ Rzecki asked, opening his eyes widely.
‘Never mind—only today do I see how necessary it is to be merciful.’
‘You always were, and too much so,’ Ignacy said irritably, ‘and you’ll find out that other people will not be the same towards you.’
‘They already are,’ Wokulski said, and gave him his hand in farewell.
‘They already are?’ Ignacy repeated, mimicking him, ‘they already are? I hope you never have to put their sympathy to the test, that’s all.’
‘I have it without that. Goodnight.’
‘Hm! We’ll see how it looks if the need arises. Goodnight, goodnight…’ said the old clerk, noisily putting his ledgers away.
Wokulski walked home and thought: ‘I really must pay a call on Krzeszowski. I’ll