The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [237]
‘He is very eccentric, to be sure,’ thought Wokulski. Then he added aloud: ‘What prevents you from carrying out these plans?’
‘The lack of money and assistants. For the final discovery eight thousand tests or so must be made, which—roughly speaking—would take one man twenty years. But four men would do them in five or six years.’
Wokulski rose from his chair and began walking about the room, pondering. Geist continued to watch him. ‘Let us suppose,’ Wokulski exclaimed, ‘that I could provide you with the money and even one or two assistants. But where is the proof that your metals aren’t some weird trick, and your hopes illusions?’
‘Come to my place, you’ll see, you can carry out some experiments of your own, and you’ll be convinced, I see no other way,’ Geist replied.
‘When could I come?’
‘When you choose. Give me ten francs or so to buy the necessary chemicals. And here’s my address,’ Geist concluded, giving him a grubby note.
Wokulski handed him three hundred francs. The old man packed his samples, closed the box and, as he left, said: ‘Write to me the day before you come. I am at home nearly all the time, dusting my retorts.’
When Geist had gone, Wokulski felt bemused. He looked at the door through which the chemist had disappeared, then at the table where he had just been shown natural objects, then again he touched his own hands or head, and walked about stamping his feet to convince himself he was not dreaming. ‘Yet it’s a fact,’ he thought, ‘that this man showed me two elements of some kind: one heavier than platinum, the other lighter than sodium. He even told me he’s looking for a metal lighter than air.’
‘Providing there is no incomprehensible fraud behind all this,’ he said aloud, ‘I’d have an idea it would be worthwhile sentencing myself to years of imprisonment for. Not only would I find absorbing work and the fulfilment of the wildest dreams of my youth, but I’d also see an aim before me, higher than any other to which the human soul has ever aspired. The question of flying ships would be solved, man would acquire wings.’
Then he again shrugged, folded his arms and muttered: ‘No, it’s impossible.’
The burden of these new natural laws or new illusions oppressed him so much that he felt the need of sharing it with someone, if only partially. So he hurried down to the elaborate reception room on the first floor and summoned Jumart. As he was wondering how to initiate this strange conversation, Jumart himself facilitated it. No sooner did he appear in the room, than he said with a tactful smile: ‘Old Geist went away very excitedly. Did he convince you, or was he defeated?’
‘Well, talk never convinces anyone, only facts,’ replied Wokulski.
‘So there were facts too?’
‘Only the promise of them, as yet. But, tell me, sir,’ Wokulski went on, ‘what would you think if Geist showed you a metal similar in every respect to steel, but two or three times lighter than water? Supposing you saw such material with your own eyes, and touched it with your own hands?’
Jumart’s smile became an ironic grimace: ‘What could I say, my God, except that Professor Palmieri exhibits still greater curiosities for five francs a person.’
‘Who is Palmieri?’ Wokulski asked in surprise.
‘A professor of hypnotism,’ Jumart replied, ‘a celebrated individual. He is living in the hotel, and three times a day he exhibits his hypnotic arts in a hall which, unfortunately, only holds sixty people. It is eight o’clock now, so the evening performance is just beginning…If you wish, we might