The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [154]
In a moment the servant entered, though without undue haste. ‘Who was that? Goldcygier, I daresay…I told you not to have anything to do with that scoundrel, just grab him and throw him downstairs. Just think,’ and he turned to Liciński, ‘that damned Jew is pestering me with a forged promissory note for four hundred roubles, and has the impudence to demand payment.’
‘You should start a law-suit against him, dear me, yes…’
‘I don’t start law-suits. I am not a public prosecutor, it isn’t my duty to chase after forgers. In any case, I don’t want to take the initiative in ruining some poor wretch who’s killing himself with work running down other people’s signatures. So I’m waiting for Goldcygier to start an action, and then will declare that it is not my signature, though without accusing anyone.’
‘As it happens, it wasn’t Goldcygier,’ Konstanty remarked.
‘Then who was it? The councillor? Or the tailor, I suppose…’
‘No, it was this person,’ said the servant, handing a visiting card to Krzeszowski, ‘a respectable person but I sent him away like you said.’
‘What!’ the Count asked in surprise, glancing at the card, ‘didn’t you give orders to receive Wokulski?’
‘No, I didn’t,’ the Baron agreed, ‘a low person, and certainly not fit for society.’
Count Liciński sat up in his chair rather significantly: ‘I never expected to hear such a remark about that gentleman…from you. Oh dear me, no…’
‘Pray don’t take what I said as derogatory,’ the Baron explained hastily, ‘Mr Wokulski has done nothing to be ashamed of, only…a minor dirty trick which may pass in trade, but not in society.’
Both the Count in his armchair and Konstanty on the threshold eyed the Baron attentively. ‘Judge for yourself,’ the Baron went on, ‘I yielded up my mare to Baroness Krzeszowska (my legal spouse before God and man) for eight hundred roubles. Madame Krzeszowska—to spite me (I’ve no idea why!)—decided to sell it. So a purchaser was found in Mr Wokulski who, by taking advantage of a woman’s weakness, thought he would make a profit out of the mare—two hundred roubles—as he only gave six hundred for her.’
‘He was in the right, dear me, yes,’ the Count interposed.
‘Well, I suppose so…Yes, I know he was. But a man who throws away thousands of roubles just for show, and then makes twenty-five per cent profit in an underhand manner and out of hysterical females—such a man is not behaving with the best of taste. He isn’t a gentleman. He committed no crime, but…he’s as unbalanced in his relations with other people as someone who gives presents of carpets and shawls to his friends, but would take a handkerchief away from a stranger. You can’t deny it…’
The Count said nothing; not for a while did he exclaim, ‘Dear me…But are you positive of it?’
‘Absolutely. The arrangement between Madame Krzeszowski and that…gentleman was made by my Maruszewicz, and I know it from him.’
‘Dear me. However that may be, Wokulski is a good tradesman, and is in charge of our partnership.’
‘Just as long as he doesn’t cheat you…’
Konstanty, still on the threshold, had begun to nod his head condescendingly, then impatiently exclaimed: ‘Eh! Whatever are you talking about? Pah! You’re no better than a little child, to be sure…’
The Count glanced at him curiously, and the Baron burst out: ‘Why, you fool, who asked your opinion?’
‘Why shouldn’t I give it, when you chatter and behave like a little child…I’m only a footman, but I’d sooner trust a man who gives me two roubles when he calls than one who borrows three and is in no hurry to repay it. That’s it—Mr Wokulski gave me two roubles today, but Mr Maruszewicz…’
‘Be off with you!’ the Baron roared, seizing a carafe, at the sight of which Konstanty saw fit to put the thickness of the door between himself and his master.
‘That flunkey is a knave,’ the Baron added, evidently very vexed.
‘Do you have a weakness for this Maruszewicz fellow?’ the Count inquired.
‘He’s an honest young man…He’s got me out of all kinds of scrapes…He’s given me ever so many proofs