The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [175]
‘Eighty-five,’ interposed Szlangbaum.
Mr Łęcki was all eyes, all ears. His eyes perceived nothing but the three bidders and his ears caught the words of the stately individual: ‘Eighty-eight thousand …’
‘Eighty-eight thousand and one hundred roubles,’ said the emaciated Jew.
‘Ninety thousand, then!’ concluded old Szlangbaum, banging the table with his fist.
‘Ninety thousand roubles,’ said the auctioneer, ‘going …’
Forgetting his manners, Mr Łęcki leaned over to the sacristan and whispered: ‘Bid! Make a bid, sir!’
‘What are you fighting for?’ the sacristan asked the emaciated Jew.
‘What are you fussing about?’ another auctioneer addressed the sacristan, ‘are you buying the property then? Be off with you!’
‘Ninety thousand roubles … going …’ shouted the auctioneer.
Mr Łęcki’s face turned grey.
‘Ninety thousand roubles … gone!’ the auctioneer cried, and struck the green baize with his little hammer.
‘Sold to Szlangbaum!’ some in the court exclaimed.
Mr Łęcki gazed dully around and only now did he notice his lawyer: ‘My dear sir,’ he said in a trembling voice, ‘this isn’t right …’
‘What isn’t?
‘No, it isn’t right … it’s dishonest …’ Mr Łęcki repeated indig-nantly.
‘What isn’t right?’ his lawyer echoed, rather vexed, ‘after paying off your mortgage you’ll make thirty thousand …’
‘But that house cost me a hundred thousand, and might have fetched more, if more care had been taken — a hundred and twenty thousand.’
‘Yes,’ the sacristan confirmed, ‘that house is worth about a hundred and twenty thousand.’
‘D’you hear that, my good man?’ Mr Łęcki said, ‘if only more care had been taken …’
‘My dear sir, no recriminations, please! You have been taking the advice of crooked dealers, of scoundrels from jail …’
‘Come, now!’ the sacristan replied, offended, ‘not everyone who has been to jail is a scoundrel. As for advice …’
‘Yes, that house was worth a hundred and twenty thousand,’ exclaimed the scoundrel-like individual, unexpectedly coming to Łęcki’s aid.
Mr Łęcki gazed at him glassily, but could not yet realise the situation fully. He did not bid his lawyer good-bye, put his hat on in the court-room and as he went out, muttered: ‘Through Jews and lawyers I have lost thirty thousand roubles … I might have got a hundred and twenty thousand.’
Old Szlangbaum was leaving too: then he was accosted by Mr Cynader, the handsome dark man Ignacy had seen just before: ‘What sort of business are you up to, Mr Szlangbaum?’ he asked him, ‘you might have bought that house for seventy-one thousand. It’s worth no more today.’
‘Not to some, perhaps, but to another it is: I do always good business,’ said the pensive Szlangbaum.
Finally Rzecki too left the court, in which another sale was taking place and another audience had already collected. Ignacy went downstairs slowly and thought: ‘So Szlangbaum bought the house, and for ninety thousand, as Klein predicted. But Szlangbaum is not Wokulski, after all … Staś wouldn’t do anything so silly! No! As for Izabela, it’s all nonsense, gossip …’
XIX
First Warning
IT WAS one o’clock in the afternoon when Ignacy drew near to the store, feeling ashamed and uneasy. How could anyone waste so much time … precisely when the most customers were in the shop? And hadn’t some disaster occurred? What pleasure was there to be gained from wandering about the streets amidst the heat, dust and smell of roasting asphalt? The day really was remarkably hot and glaring; the pavements and buildings gave off a glow; metal signs and lamp-posts could not be touched and because of the excess of light, tears came into Mr Ignacy’s eyes and black spots danced across his field of vision. ‘If I were the Lord,’ he thought, ‘I’d save half the heat of July for use in December …’
Suddenly he noticed the store’s display windows (he was just passing) and was astounded. The display had not been changed for two whole weeks.