The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [216]
‘It is not kindness, madam, but the honesty of a true gentleman,’ the agent put in. ‘Mr Wokulski has lowered my rent too, and I accepted …The street, after all, is third-rate, little traffic …’
‘Yet it’s easy to find tenants,’ Mrs Stawska interposed.
‘We prefer ones known to us for quietness and respectability,’ I replied.
‘You are quite right,’ the old lady assured me, ‘respectability in the house is our guiding principle …Even though little Helena sometimes throws pieces of paper in the yard, Franusia immediately clears them away …’
‘But, grandma, I was only cutting out envelopes, for I wrote letters to papa to come back,’ the little girl protested.
The shadow of sorrow and weariness flitted across Mrs Stawska’s face. ‘No news?’ the agent inquired. The young lady shook her head slowly: I am not sure that she didn’t sigh, though softly.
‘What a fate for a young and pretty woman!’ the older lady cried, ‘neither maid nor wife …’
‘Mother …!’
‘Neither widow nor divorcée, in a word —and no one knows why or how. You can say what you like, Helena, but I tell you Ludwik is dead …’
‘Mother! Mother!’
‘Yes,’ said her mother, loftily, ‘here we are, all awaiting him every day, every hour, but it’s all for nothing. He’s either denied or renounced you, so you are under no obligation to wait for him.’
Tears came into the eyes of both ladies: the mother’s of anger,
and the daughter’s …I don’t know …Perhaps of grief for a ruined life.
Suddenly a thought went through my brain which (had it not been mine) I would have considered a stroke of genius. But less of that. Suffice it to say there was something in my face and attitude that, when I straightened myself in the chair, crossed my legs and coughed, made them all gaze at me, even little Helena.
‘Our acquaintance,’ said I, ‘is too brief for me to venture …’
‘Never mind,’ Mr Wirski interrupted, ‘good deeds can be accepted even from strangers …’
‘Our acquaintance,’ I repeated, silencing him with a look, ‘is really very short. Allow me, however, to suggest that Mr Wokulski might use his influence to find your husband …’
‘Ah!’ the older lady groaned, in a way I could not but regard as manifesting joy.
‘Mother! …’ Mrs Stawska interrupted.
‘Helena,’ said her grandmother firmly, ‘go and play with your doll and make her the dress. I have picked up the stitch for you, now run along …’
The little girl was somewhat startled, perhaps even intrigued, but she kissed her grandma and her mother’s hands and went out with her knitting.
‘Pray, sir,’ the old lady continued, ‘if we are to speak frankly, then I am not so much concerned …That is, I do not believe Ludwik is still alive. Anyone who doesn’t write for two years …’
‘Mother, that’s enough …’
‘Not at all,’ her mother interrupted, ‘if you still don’t feel your position, then I do. It is impossible to go on living with this eternal hope —or threat …’
‘Mother dear, I alone have the right, when my happiness and duty …’
‘Don’t mention happiness to me!’ her mother exclaimed, ‘it ended on the day when your husband fled from the police, who found out some sinister relations with that money-lender. I know he was innocent, I was ready to swear it. But neither you nor I understand why he used to go to her …’
‘Mother, these gentlemen are strangers,’ Mrs Stawska cried in desperation.
‘Me a stranger?’ the agent asked reproachfully, but he rose from his chair and bowed.
‘You’re not a stranger, nor is that gentleman,’ the old lady went on, indicating me, ‘surely he is an honest man …’
It was my turn to bow.
‘So I tell you, sir,’ the old lady continued with a sharp look at me, ‘we are living in continual uncertainty about my son-in-law, and this uncertainty is ruining our peace of mind. But I confess I fear his return more than anything.’
Mrs Stawska covered her face with a handkerchief and ran to her room.
‘Weep, then—weep!’ said the old lady, crossly,