The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [244]
When he had finished the tests, Wokulski sat down wearily in the armchair; Geist put away his specimens, closed the safe and asked, smiling: ‘Well, now — fact or illusion?’
‘I don’t understand at all,’ Wokulski murmured, clutching his head with both hands, ‘my head is reeling! A metal three times lighter than water … incomprehensible!’
‘Or a metal around 10 per cent lighter than air, what? …’ laughed Geist. ‘Specific gravity refuted … The laws of nature undermined, what? Ha! Ha! … Not at all. The laws of Nature, in so far as they are known to us, will remain intact, even in the face of my metals. Only our ideas about the properties of bodies and their internal structures will be extended, as will the limits of human technology, of course.’
‘And specific gravity?’ asked Wokulski.
‘Listen to me,’ Geist interrupted, ‘and you will soon understand wherein the essence of my discoveries lies, although, I hasten to add, you will be unable to copy them. There are no miracles here, and no trickery; these are things so simple that an elementary school pupil could understand them.’
He took a steel cube from the table and handing it to Wokulski said: ‘Here is a ten-centimetre cube, solid, cast in steel; take it in your hand, how much does it weigh?’
‘Around eight kilograms …’
He handed over another cube of the same size, also steel, asking: ‘And this one?’
‘This one weighs around half a kilogram … But it is hollow …’ replied Wokulski.
‘Excellent! And how much does this cubic frame of steel wire weigh?’ asked Geist, handing it to Wokulski.
‘It weighs a dozen or so grams …’
‘So you see,’ Geist interposed, ‘we have three cubes of the same size and the same substance, but which differ in weight. Why? Because the solid cube has most steel particles, the hollow one fewer, and the wire the least of all. Imagine, then, that instead of using complete particles I succeeded in constructing something made of the frames of particles, and you will understand the secret of the discovery. It depends on a change in the internal structure of materials, which is no novelty even for contemporary chemistry. So, what do you think? …’
‘When I see the specimens, I believe you,’ replied Wokulski, ‘but when I leave this place …’ He made a gesture of despair.
Geist reopened the safe, looked in and produced a small fragment of metal reminiscent of bronze, which he handed to Wokulski: ‘Take this as an amulet against doubting my reason or veracity. This metal is some five times lighter than water, and it will remind you of our meeting. Moreover,’ he added with a smile, ‘it has one great property: it need fear no chemical reactions … It will vanish sooner than betray my secret … And now, be off, Mr Suzin, rest and ponder what you are going to do with yourself.’
‘I’ll come here,’ Wokulski murmured.
‘No, no — not yet,’ Geist replied, ‘you have not yet settled your accounts with the world; and, as I have money for the next few years, I don’t insist … Come back when nothing remains of your earlier illusions.’
He shook him impatiently by the hand, and led him to the door. On the stairs he said goodbye once more and returned to the laboratory. When Wokulski emerged into the yard, the gate was already open, and when he passed through and stood opposite his horse-drawn cab, it slammed shut.
Returning to town, Wokulski first of all bought a golden medallion, placed the fragment of new metal inside it and suspended it around his neck like a scapula. He wanted to go for a stroll, but noticed that the traffic tired him: so he went to his room. ‘Why have I come back here?’ he thought, ‘why don’t I go to Geist’s?’
He sat down in an armchair and lost himself in memories. He saw the Hopfer establishment, the dining-room and the customers who jeered at him: he saw his perpetual motion machine, and the model balloon he tried to steer. He saw Kasia Hopfer who had wasted away for love of him