The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [192]
‘How come this sudden change … of plans?’ I asked, feeling that I was not asking what I wanted to know.
‘My dear fellow,’ he replied, ‘don’t you know that sometimes a single word will change a plan, even a person … Not to mention what a whole conversation can do …’ he added in a whisper.
He continued packing and gathering together various articles, then went into the drawing-room. A minute passed — he did not return: two minutes — still no sign … I glanced through the open door and saw him leaning against the arm of a chair and absently staring out of the window. ‘Staś …’
He jumped, and returned to his packing, asking: ‘What is it?’
‘Something is the matter …’
‘No, nothing …’
‘I haven’t seen you like this for a long time …’
He smiled: ‘No doubt since the time when the dentist extracted a tooth that happened to be sound,’ he replied.
‘Your setting out like this looks strange,’ I said, ‘isn’t there anything you want to tell me?’
‘To tell you? Yes, of course … We have about a hundred and twenty thousand roubles in the bank, so you won’t be short of money … What else?’ he asked himself, ‘oh yes … Don’t keep it a secret any longer that I bought the Łęcki house. In fact, go there and fix the rents according to the previous terms. You can raise Baroness Krzeszowska’s by ten roubles or so, let her be vexed: but don’t be hard on the poorer tenants … A tailor lives there, and some students: take what they pay, providing they pay regularly.’
He glanced at his watch, and seeing he still had time, lay down in silence on the chaise-longue, his hands over his head, eyes closed. This sight was inexpressibly painful. I sat down at his feet and said: ‘Is anything the matter, Staś? Tell me what it is. I know I can’t help, but d’you see … Sorrow is like poison — it does you good to spit it out.’
Staś smiled again (I don’t like those half-smiles of his) and replied after a moment: ‘I remember — how long ago it was! — sitting in a room with some fellow who was strangely frank. He told me incredible things about his family, contacts, his great deeds and then — he listened very attentively to my own story. And later took advantage of it.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘I mean, old man, that because I don’t want to extract any confidences from you, I don’t need to make them to you.’
‘How so?’ I exclaimed, ‘is this how you regard confidences to a friend?’
‘Never mind,’ he said, getting up, ‘it’s all very well for school-girls … In any case, I have nothing to confide, not even in you. How tired I am,’ he muttered, stretching.
Not until this moment did that scoundrel of a butler come in; he took Staś’s suitcase and informed us the horses were waiting. Staś and I got into the carriage, but did not exchange a single word all the way to the railroad station. He eyed the stars and whistled softly, while I thought I must surely be on the way to a funeral.
At Vienna Station, Dr Szuman caught up with us: ‘You are going to Paris, then?’ he asked Staś.
‘How do you know?’
‘Oh, I know everything. I even know that Mr Starski is travelling by the same train …’
Staś recoiled. ‘What sort of man is he?’ he asked the doctor.
‘An idler, a bankrupt — like all of them,’ Szuman replied, ‘and a former suitor into the bargain …’
‘I don’t care.’
Szuman said nothing, only eyed him obliquely.
They began ringing bells and blowing whistles. Travellers crowded into the carriages. Staś shook us by the hand.
‘When will you be back?’ the doctor asked him.
‘Never — if I had my way,’ Staś replied, and he got into an empty first-class compartment.
The train moved away. Pondering, the doctor watched its lights disappear, while I … almost burst into tears.
When the guards began closing the platform, I persuaded the doctor to take a walk along Aleje Jerozolimskie. The night was warm, the sky clear: I don’t recall ever having seen so many stars before.