The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [225]
He said this in a somewhat ironical tone and behaved as befitted a very well-educated man. Wokulski grew increasingly surprised by him: ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘what sort of people were those?’
‘Your callers?’ Jumart inquired, ‘people—like any others: guides, inventors, go-betweens…Each works as best he may, and tries to do as best he can from his work. And, since they like making a profit if it’s to be had for more than it’s worth—well, that’s a trait of the French.’
‘You aren’t a Frenchman?’
‘I?…I was born in Vienna, educated in Switzerland and Germany, I have lived a long time in Italy, England, Norway, America…My surname best defines my nationality: I belong to the herd I happen to be living in—a bull with bulls, a horse with horses. But, since I know the source of my income and what I spend it on, people know me—so nothing concerns me.’
Wokulski eyed him intently: ‘I do not understand you,’ he said.
‘You see, sir,’ said Jumart, drumming on the table, ‘I have observed too much of the world to care about a man’s nationality. Only four kinds of man exist for me—not counting languages. The first are those whose source of income I know, and how they spend it; the second are those whose source of income I know, though I don’t know how they spend it. The third’s expenses are known, while his source of income is unknown, and the fourth kind are those whose sources of income and expenditures I don’t know. I know that Mr Escabeau gets his income from a knitting factory, and he spends it on making some devilish weapons, so I respect him. As for the Baroness—I don’t know where she gets her money, nor how she spends it, so I don’t trust her.’
‘I am a tradesman, Mr Jumart,’ Wokulski remarked, disagreeably impressed by the exposition of the above theory.
‘I know. And you are also a friend of Mr Suzin, which gives you interest. But my remarks didn’t refer to you, sir; I merely offered them as a lecture which, I trust, may be of some profit to me.’
‘You are a philosopher,’ Wokulski muttered.
‘Indeed, I am a Doctor of Philosophy of two universities,’ Jumart replied.
‘Yet you play the role of…?’
‘A servant, you were going to say?’ Jumart interposed, smiling. ‘I work, sir, in order to live and assure myself an income when I grow old. I care nothing for titles; I have had so many already…The world is like an amateur theatre, where it is not done to insist on leading parts but reject minor roles. In any case, all roles are good, providing they are well played and not taken too seriously.’
Wokulski stirred. Jumart rose, bowed elegantly and said: ‘I recommend my services to you, sir.’ Then he went out of the drawing-room.
‘Do I have a fever, or what?’ Wokulski whispered, clutching his head with both hands, ‘I knew Paris was strange, but not quite so strange…’ It was only three-thirty when Wokulski glanced at his watch: ‘Four hours and more till the meeting,’ he thought, unnerved by not knowing what to do with the time. He had seen so many new things, talked to so many new people, yet it was only three-thirty! He was seized by an undefinable alarm, and felt the lack of something…‘Shall I have another meal? No…Or read? No…Or talk? I’ve had enough conversation.’
People disgusted him; perhaps the least detestable were those infected with inventor’s mania and Jumart, with his classification of the human species. He lacked the courage to go back to his hotel room, with its huge mirror; so what else was left him but to inspect the sights of Paris? He asked to be shown the dining-room of the Grand Hotel. Everything in it was splendid and immense, from the walls, ceiling and windows down to the number and dimensions of the tables. But Wokulski hardly looked at it; instead, he fixed his gaze on one of the huge, gilded chandeliers and thought: ‘When she reaches the age of the Baroness…accustomed as she is to spending tens of thousands of roubles a year, who knows she won’t go the same way as the Baroness? After all, that woman was once young too, and some madman like