The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [213]
‘Even that good-for-nothing Maruszewicz,’ the Baroness went on, ‘even he watches her through the window for days at a time …’
The Baroness’s dramatic voice went into sobs again: ‘And to think,’ she groaned, ‘that a woman like that has a daughter, a daughter she is bringing up for hellfire, while I …I believe in justice and heavenly mercy, but I cannot understand — no, I cannot understand the justice which has deprived me and yet leaves her child to that…that …Sir!’ she exclaimed at the top of her voice, ‘you may leave those nihilists if you will, but she …you must get rid of her! Let her apartment remain empty, I will pay for it, providing she has no roof over her head …’
I found this detestable. I made a sign to the agent that we should take our leave and said coldly, with a bow: ‘You must allow the landlord, Mr Wokulski, to decide this for himself.’
The Baroness crossed her arms like a person shot in the heart: ‘Ah! So that’s how it is?’ she hissed, ‘already you and that …that Wokulski are in league with her! Ha! I will, therefore await God’s judgement …’
We left, not being detained any longer; on the stairs I staggered like a drunk man.
‘What do you know of this Mrs Stawska?’ I asked Wirski.
‘She’s the most honest woman in the world,’ he replied, ‘young, pretty, keeps the whole household …Her mother’s pension is barely enough for the rent.’
‘So she has a mother?’
‘Yes. She is a good woman, too.’
‘And how much rent do they pay?’
‘Three hundred roubles,’ the agent replied, ‘it’s like taking money from orphans …’
‘Let us call on these ladies,’ said I.
‘Very gladly,’ he exclaimed, ‘and as for what that crazy woman says about them — why, pay no attention. She hates Stawska, though I can’t think why. Perhaps because she’s pretty and has a little daughter just like an angel.’
‘Where do they live?’
‘In the front wing, on the second floor.’
I don’t remember coming down the main stairs, nor crossing the yard, nor yet going up to the second floor of the wing. Before me stood Mrs Stawska and Wokulski …My goodness, what a fine pair they would make; but what of it, since she has a husband already? These are matters in which I have not the slightest desire to meddle. To me it seems one thing, to them it would seem another, and to fate something different again …
Fate, fate! It draws people together strangely. Had I not gone into Hopfer’s wine-cellars years ago, to see Machalski, I would not have met Wokulski. Again, had I not urged him to go to the theatre, perhaps he would not have met Miss Łecka. I have unwittingly stirred up trouble for him, and do not want to do so again. Let the Lord God do it…
When we stopped at the door of Mrs Stawska’s apartment, the agent smiled mischievously and whispered: ‘Mind now …First we must find out if the young lady is at home. She is well worth seeing, my dear sir!’
‘I know it, I know it …’
The agent did not ring, but knocked once, then again. Suddenly the door opened quite violently, and there was a fat, dumpy servant-girl with her sleeves rolled up and soapy hands an athlete might have envied: ‘Oh, it’s the agent,’ she exclaimed, ‘I thought it was him again …’
‘What, has someone been making a nuisance of himself?’ Wirski asked, in an outraged tone of voice.
‘No, nobody ain’t,’ the girl said in peasant speech, ‘only someone sent a bouquet today. They say it’s that Maruszewicz from over the way.’
‘Scoundrel!’ the agent hissed.
‘Men are all alike. If they take a fancy to a girl, they’re after her like moths around a candle.’
‘Are both the ladies at home?’ Wirski asked.
The fat servant-girl looked at me suspiciously: ‘Are you with that gentleman?’ she asked him.
‘Yes, he is the landlord’s plenipotentiary.’
‘Is he young or old?’ she inquired further, gazing at me like a judge eyeing a prisoner.
‘He’s old — can’t you see for yourself?’ the agent replied.
‘Middle-aged,’ I interrupted. (For goodness sake, they will be calling fifteen-year-old boys ‘old’ next!)
‘Both the ladies are at home,’ said the servant-girl, ‘but a young girl just came to the