The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [160]
‘All the same,’ said Rzecki to himself, ‘this theatre business is going too far, mainly because Staś is neglecting his work…’
Then again, the widely respected lawyer and right-hand man of the Prince, the legal adviser of the entire aristocracy, called at the store to invite Wokulski to his office for an evening meeting. Ignacy did not know where to seat this eminent person, nor how to appreciate the honour paid his Staś by the lawyer. But Staś was not only unmoved by the grand invitation for the evening, but simply refused it, which somewhat upset the lawyer, who left at once and said goodbye to them very coolly.
‘Why didn’t you accept?’ the despondent Rzecki asked.
‘Because I have to go to the theatre tonight,’ Wokulski replied.
But genuine alarm seized Rzecki when on that same day the cashier Oberman came to him before seven and asked him to do the day’s figures: ‘Later on…after eight o’clock,’ Ignacy replied, ‘there isn’t time now.’
‘But I shan’t have time after eight,’ Oberman replied.
‘How so? What do you mean?’
‘Just that I have to go with the master to the theatre at seven-thirty,’ Oberman muttered, shrugging imperceptibly.
At the same moment in came Zięba, smiling, to say goodnight.
‘Are you going already, Mr Zięba? At six-fifteen?’ asked Ignacy in amazement, his eyes opening very wide.
‘I’m taking the bouquets for Rossi,’ the polite Zięba whispered, with a still more agreeable smile.
Rzecki clutched his head with both hands: ‘They’ve gone mad over this theatre!’ he cried, ‘perhaps they’ll even try to get me involved too…Not likely, though…’
Feeling that Wokulski might well try and persuade him to go as well, he rehearsed a speech in which he declared he would not go to the Italians and even made Staś think twice about it, in more or less these words: ‘For goodness sake, give over, please! What’s all this nonsense?’ and so on.
But instead of trying to persuade him, Wokulski came into the store around six, found Rzecki at the accounts and said: ‘My dear fellow, Rossi is playing Macbeth tonight, be so kind as to sit in the front row of the stalls (here’s your ticket) and hand him this album after the third act…’
And without more ado or even explaining, he handed Ignacy an album containing views of Warsaw and local young ladies, which must have cost fifty roubles!
Ignacy felt deeply hurt. He rose, frowned and had opened his mouth to protest, when Wokulski abruptly left the shop without so much as another look at him. So of course Ignacy had to go to the theatre, to avoid hurting Staś’s feelings.
In the theatre a whole series of surprises lay in wait for Ignacy. First of all, he went in by the gallery stairs, his usual entry in the good old days. An attendant had to remind him he had a ticket for the front row of the stalls and in doing so cast a look at him as if to say that Mr Rzecki’s dark-green frock-coat, the album under his arm and even his countenance à la Napoleon III appeared highly suspect to the lower hierarchy of the theatre authorities. Embarrassed, Ignacy went down to the front vestibule, clutching the album under his arm and bowing to all the ladies he had the honour of passing. This politeness, to which the good people of Warsaw were not at all accustomed, created quite a stir in the vestibule. People began asking who he was; and although no one recognised him, everyone at once noticed that his top-hat was ten years old, his tie five, while his dark-green frock-coat and striped trousers dated from an even earlier epoch. On the whole they took him for a foreigner; but when he asked an attendant the way to the stalls, people burst out laughing: ‘He must be a squireen up from Wolyn,’ the dandies said, ‘but what is that under his arm? His supper, I daresay—or a pneumatic cushion.’
Scourged