The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [25]
The apartment had many advantages. It was dry, warm, spacious, light. It had marble stairs, gas, electric bells and taps. Each room could be linked with the others if required, or form an entity by itself. The furniture was adequate, neither too much nor too little, and each piece was distinguished by comfortable simplicity rather than striking ostentation. The sideboard made one feel certain that the silver would not disappear; the beds brought to mind well-deserved repose; the table might groan, and the chairs could be sat on without fear of their collapsing, while anyone might doze in the armchairs.
Anyone who entered moved about freely: no one needed to fear that something would get in the way, or that he might break something. No one was bored while waiting for the master of the house, for he was surrounded by things well worth looking at. All in all, the sight of antique objects still able to serve several more generations instilled a solemn mood in the beholder.
Its inhabitants stood out against this background.
Mr Tomasz Łęcki was a man of over sixty, not tall, but stout, full-blooded. He wore a small white moustache, his hair was white and brushed upwards. He had grey, understanding eyes, an upright posture and walked briskly. People made way for him in the street, and simple people said: ‘He must be a real gentleman …’
And it was true that Mr Łęcki could number whole crowds of senators in his family. His father had owned millions of roubles, and he himself, when young, had had thousands. Later, however, a part of his fortune had been engulfed by political events, and the rest by travelling in Europe and mixing in high society. Before 1870, Mr Łęcki had been in attendance at the Court of France, then at the court in Vienna and in Rome. Charmed by the beauty of Łęcki’s daughter, Victor Emmanuel had honoured him with friendship and even wished to bestow the title of Count upon him. It is understandable, therefore, that Mr Łęcki wore mourning crepe on his hat for two months after the death of that amiable monarch.
But for some years now Mr Łęcki had not left Warsaw, for he no longer had the money to sparkle in royal Courts. But his apartment became a gathering-place for the elegant world and remained so until a rumour began to spread to the effect that Tomasz had lost not only his fortune but also Izabela’s dowry.
The first to withdraw were the marrying men, then the ladies with plain daughters, whereupon Mr Tomasz himself broke with the rest and restricted his acquaintance exclusively to members of his family. But when he saw a coolness here too, he withdrew entirely from society and even (to the dismay of many worthy persons), as an owner of a tenement house in Warsaw, joined the merchants’ social club. They wanted to make him president, but he declined.
But his daughter went on frequenting the home of the old Countess Karolowa and a few of the latter’s female friends, and this in itself started the rumour that Tomasz still had his fortune and that he had quit society partly through eccentricity, partly to find out who his true friends were, and to choose for his daughter a husband who would love her for herself and not for her dowry.
So once again a crowd of admirers began to gather around Miss Łęcki, and piles of visiting cards lay on the little table in her boudoir. Visitors were not received, however, but this did not arouse much annoyance, for a third rumour now started, to the effect that Łęcki’s house was to be put up for auction.
At this, confusion prevailed in society. Some vowed that Mr Łęcki was bankrupt, others were ready to swear that he had merely concealed his fortune to assure the happiness of his only child. Marriageable men and their relatives were agonisingly uncertain. Neither to risk anything nor to lose anything, they paid their tributes to Miss Izabela without involving themselves too much, and quietly left cards at her home, praying they would not be invited there