The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [222]
‘What’s that?’ he wondered, catching sight of a huge building to his right, unlike anything he had seen before. It was a vast stone block with a semi-circular arched gateway. It was a gate of course, which stood at the intersection of two streets. There was a little booth to one side where omnibuses stopped; a café almost exactly opposite and a pavement separated from the centre of the street by a short iron railing.
A couple of hundred paces further, another similar gate, and between them a wide street, extending to the right and to the left. The traffic suddenly grew more dense; at least three different types of omnibus and tram ran here.
Wokulski looked right and saw two rows of street lamps, two lines of kiosks, two lines of trees and two lines of five-storey houses reaching the length of Krakowskie Przedmieście and Nowy Świat avenue together. The end was out of sight; only somewhere in the distance the street rose towards the sky; the roofs descended to the ground, and everything disappeared. ‘I’ll go that way, even if I get lost and am late for the meeting,’ he thought. Then, at a corner, a young woman passed him, her figure and movements making a powerful impression on Wokulski: ‘Can it be?…No…First, she stayed behind in Warsaw and then, I’ve already met another like her…Illusions.’
But his strength, even his memory were ebbing. Now he had stopped at the junction of two streets planted with trees, with no idea whatsoever of how he had come there. Panic fear, known to people lost in a forest, gripped him; fortunately a one-horse carriage drove by, whose driver grinned at him in a very friendly manner: ‘The Grand Hotel,’ said Wokulski, getting in.
The driver touched his cap and cried: ‘Gee up, Lisette! I daresay this noble foreign gentleman will treat you to a quart of beer for your trouble…’ Then, turning sideways to Wokulski, he said: ‘Either of two things, citizen—you’ve just arrived, or you’ve lunched well…’
‘I arrived today,’ Wokulski replied, soothed by the sight of his round, red, clean-shaven face.
‘And you’ve had a drop to drink, that’s clear,’ the driver remarked, ‘do you know the fare?’
‘Never mind that…’
‘Gee up, Lisette. I like this foreign gentleman and think that only fares like this should turn up at our stand. Are you sure, citizen, that it’s the Grand Hotel you want?’ He turned to Wokulski.
‘Quite sure’.
‘Gee up, Lisette. This foreign gentleman is beginning to interest me. Are you from Berlin, citizen?’
‘No.’
The driver eyed him a moment, then said, ‘So much the better for you. True, I’ve nothing against the Prussians, although they took Alsace from us and a large piece of Lotharingia too, but I never like having a German at the back of me…Where are you from, citizen?’
‘Warsaw.’
‘Ah, ça! A fine country, a rich country…Gee up, Lisette! So you’re a Pole. I know the Poles…Here’s Opéra Square, citizen, and there’s the Grand Hotel.’
Wokulski tossed the driver three francs, hurried through the gate and up to the third floor. Hardly had he stopped at his door when a smiling servant appeared and handed him a note from Suzin with a packet of letters: ‘Many visitors—many lady visitors too,’ said the servant, looking at him cheerfully.
‘Where are they all?’
‘In the reception room and the waiting room and the dining room. Mr Jumart is growing impatient.’
‘And who might Mr Jumart be?’ asked Wokulski.
‘Your secretary and Mr Suzin’s…A very efficient man, who could be of great service if he were certain…of a thousand-franc tip,’ said the servant mischievously.
‘Where is he now?’
‘In