The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [223]
Wokulski went into his room: ‘In the first place,’ Miller persisted, ‘you gentlemen should beware of that Baroness…who is already waiting in the library, though she wasn’t supposed to come until three. I swear she’s a German…Me, I’m an Alsatian, after all.’
Miller said the last phrase in an undertone and retreated down the corridor. Wokulski opened Suzin’s note and read: ‘Meeting postponed until eight—you have plenty of time, so pray deal with the visitors, especially the women. I am too old to cope with them, God knows.’ Wokulski began glancing through the letters. Most were advertisements from tradesmen, hairdressers, dentists, requests for assistance, offers to reveal various secrets, an appeal from the Salvation Army. Out of all these letters, Wokulski was most struck by this: ‘A young person, elegant and attractive, seeks to visit Paris with you, sharing expenses. Leave reply with the hotel porter.’
‘A strange city,’ Wokulski muttered. A second, still more interesting letter was from the Baroness who was waiting in the library for an interview at three o’clock. ‘Half an hour yet…’
He rang and ordered lunch. A few minutes later he was served with ham, eggs, steak, an unidentifiable fish, several bottles of various beverages, and black coffee. He ate ravenously, drank liberally, finally told Miller to take him to the reception room. The servant walked along the corridor with him, touched a bell, said something into a speaking-tube, then conducted Wokulski to the elevator. A minute later Wokulski was on the first floor and as soon as he emerged from the elevator he was stopped by a distinguished gentleman with a small moustache, in a frock-coat and white tie. ‘Jumart…’ said this gentleman, with a bow.
They went several yards down a corridor and Jumart opened the door of a splendid drawing-room. Wokulski almost drew back on seeing the gilded furniture, huge mirrors and the walls adorned with bas-reliefs. In the centre was a huge table covered with a costly cloth and heaped with papers. ‘May I announce the visitors?’ Jumart asked. ‘They are not dangerous, I think…But may I venture to draw your attention to the Baroness? She’s in the library.’ He bowed and went solemnly into another drawing-room, which seemed to be a waiting room.
‘For goodness sake, have I got myself involved in an imbroglio?’ Wokulski wondered.
Hardly had he sat down in an armchair and started looking through the papers when a servant in a blue frock-coat with gilt epaulettes entered and handed him a visiting-card on a tray. It was engraved: ‘Colonel…’ and a name which conveyed nothing to Wokulski.
‘Ask him in…’
A moment later there appeared a man of imposing stature with a grey imperial, similar whiskers and a red ribbon in his button-hole. ‘I know your time is precious,’ said the visitor, bowing slightly, ‘my business is brief. Paris is a splendid city in every respect: whether for amusement or for study…but it needs an experienced guide. Since I know all the museums, galleries, theatres, clubs, monuments, government and private institutions, in a word—everything—if you wish, sir…’
‘Pray leave your address,’ Wokulski replied.
‘I speak four languages, I have a wide acquaintance in the artistic, literary, scientific and industrial worlds…’
‘I cannot give you an answer just now,’ Wokulski interposed.
‘Shall I call again, or await your summons?’ the visitor asked.
‘Yes, I’ll reply by letter…’
‘Pray bear me in mind,’ said the visitor. He rose, bowed and left.
The servant brought in another visiting-card and soon another visitor appeared. He was a plump, red-faced man who looked like the proprietor of a textile emporium. He kept bowing as he crossed from the door to the table: ‘What can I do for you?’ Wokulski asked.
‘My dear