The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [19]
And August Katz winked and went on cutting up soap.
I was astounded, but at that moment took a great liking to Jan Mincel and August Katz. Later I realised that there were two great factions in the little shop, one of which consisted of old Mincel and his mother who loved the Germans very much, while the other consisted of the young Mincels and Katz, who hated them. As I recall, I was the only neutral person.
In 1846 we heard that Louis Napoleon had escaped from captivity. This year was important to me, because I was promoted and my master, old Jan Mincel, passed away in a somewhat peculiar manner.
The business in our shop decreased that year, on account of the general uneasiness prevailing and also because my master reviled Louis Napoleon too often and too loudly. People began taking a dislike to us, and one day someone — perhaps Katz — even smashed the glass in the shop-window.
But this incident, instead of entirely alienating the public, attracted them to the shop, and for a week we had as big a turn-out as ever; it reached such a point that our neighbours envied us. But a week later, this artificial business boom again decreased and it was empty in the shop.
During my master’s absence one evening, in itself an unusual event, a second stone was thrown through the glass. The Mincels in alarm took refuge upstairs and tried to find their uncle. Katz ran into the street to see who was responsible for this outrage, whereupon two policemen appeared dragging along — guess whom? None other than my master, and they charged him with breaking the glass this time and probably the previous time, too.
The old man denied it in vain: not only had he been caught in the act, but a stone was found on his person … So the poor wretch was taken off to the police station.
After a great deal of explaining and talk, the matter was smoothed over naturally enough; but from this time on, the old man lost his spirit entirely and grew thin. One day, he sat in his armchair by the window, and he never rose from it again. He passed away with his chin resting on the ledger, still holding the string that moved the mechanical Cossack.
For some years, his nephews kept the shop going in Podwal Street, and not until 1850 did they split up so that Franz stayed behind with the grocery store, while Jan took the haberdashery and soap and moved to Krakowskie Przedmieście, to the shop we now occupy. A few years after this, Jan married the beautiful Małgorzata Pfeifer and when she (God rest her soul!) became a widow, she bestowed her hand in marriage upon Staś Wokulski, and in this way, he inherited the business, which had been carried on by two generations of Mincels.
My old master’s mother survived a long while; when I returned from abroad in 1853, I found her still in the best of health. Every morning she would come into the shop and say: ‘Gut Morgen, meine Kinder! Der Kaffee is schon fertig …’
But her voice grew feebler from year to year, until it finally disappeared for ever.
In my time, a man’s master was the father and teacher of his apprentices and the most vigilant servant of his shop: his mother or wife was the lady of the house, and everyone in the family worked in the shop. Today, an employer merely takes his profits and usually knows little about the shop, while he is more anxious that his children should not enter trade. I do not refer here to Staś Wokulski, who has wider views, only in general I think a tradesman ought to stick to his shop and create his own staff, if he wants them to be at all decent.
They say Andrássy has demanded sixty million gulden for unforeseen expenses. So Austria is arming too,