The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [159]
‘What the devil is the old man up to now? Dealing in theatre tickets, or what?’
Hearing the sound of farewells in the study, the servant took refuge in the vestibule in order to catch Oberman there. When the cashier emerged he exclaimed: ‘Well, is it over with the money, then? I took a lot of my breath to make the old man have mercy on you, Oberman, but finally I forced him to say “We’ll see, we’ll do what we can…” And now I see you’ve done well for yourself, Mr Oberman. Is the old man in a good temper, then?’
‘Like always,’ the cashier replied.
‘You had a nice talk with him, didn’t you? It must have been about more than the money…I daresay it was about the theatre, for the old man likes the theatre.…’
But Oberman glared at him wolfishly and went out without answering. At first the servant gasped in astonishment, but then he cooled down and shook his fist: ‘You wait,’ he muttered, ‘I’ll pay you back…A great gentleman, just look at him…Steals four hundred roubles but he won’t even talk to a fellow…’
XVIII
Surprises, Delusions and Observations of the Old Clerk
ANOTHER period of uneasiness and surprises had come upon Ignacy Rzecki. This same Wokulski, who had rushed off to Bulgaria a year ago and had amused himself like a lord a few weeks back at horse-races and duels, had today developed an extraordinary fondness for theatrical performances. It would not have been so bad if they’d been in Polish—but in Italian! And Wokulski did not understand a word of Italian.
This new mania had already lasted almost a week, much to the surprise and chagrin of other people as well as Ignacy. Once, for instance, old Szlangbaum had been looking for Wokulski for half a day, obviously in connection with some important business. He tried the shop, but Wokulski had just left, after ordering a large vase of Saxon porcelain to be delivered to the actor Rossi. He hurried to Wokulski’s apartment—Wokulski had just left, and gone to Bardet’s flower-shop. With a grimace, the old Jew took a droshky in an attempt to catch up with him; but as he offered the driver one złoty and eight groszy for the drive, instead of forty groszy, Wokulski had already left the flower-shop by the time they finished arguing.
‘D’you know where he went?’ Szlangbaum asked the gardener, who was sowing destruction among his finest blooms with a crooked knife.
‘How should I know? To the theatre, I daresay,’ the gardener replied, looking as if he would like to cut Szlangbaum’s throat with that crooked knife.
The very same notion had occurred to the Jew, who retreated as hastily as possible from the Orangery and jumped into the droshky like a stone from a sling. But the driver (who had obviously come to an agreement with the cannibal gardener) declared he would not go any further unless the merchant paid him forty groszy for the drive and repaid the two groszy deducted the first time.
Szlangbaum felt palpitations around his heart, and at first wanted either to get out or to call the police. Recalling, however, that malice, injustice and greed were now prevailing towards Jews in the Christian world, he agreed to all the conditions of the outrageous driver and drove to the theatre, groaning.
There—he did not know whom to address, then nobody would speak to him, but he finally ascertained that Mr Wokulski had been there, but at that moment left for Aleje Ujazdowskie. The wheels of his carriage could still be heard in the gate…
Szlangbaum gave up in despair. He went back on foot to Wokulski’s store, taking the opportunity for the hundredth time of cursing his son for calling himself ‘Henryk’, wearing a frock-coat and eating non-kosher food, then he finally went to expatiate on his woes to Ignacy:
‘Now!’ he said in a lamenting voice, ‘whatever is Mr Wokulski up to, for goodness sake? I had a transaction he could have made three hundred roubles on within five days…I’d have made a hundred myself…But no! He goes riding around the town, and I had to spend two złoty and twenty groszy on droshkies. O my! What brigands those droshky-men are!’
Rzecki of course