The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [251]
‘An amusing story, upon my word,’ Wokulski muttered, when the Baron had gone, ‘that old man is really up to his neck in it.’
And he could not dispel the figure of the Baron, who had looked like a shadow against the amaranthine background of the carriage seat. So he observed the lean face, on which brick-red flushes glowed, his hair which seemed to be powdered with flour, his large sunken eyes in which an unhealthy gleam flickered. His outburst of passion had made a droll yet mournful impression in a man who kept covering up his throat, checking that the window was tightly shut and continually changed his seat in the compartment for fear of draughts.
‘He’s in a fine state,’ thought Wokulski. ‘Is it possible that a young woman could fall in love with such a mummy? He’s certainly ten years older than I, and how incompetent and naive into the bargain!
‘Very well, but supposing this young woman does really love him. For it is hard to suppose she is deceiving him. In general, women are nobler than men: not only do they commit fewer sins, but they sacrifice themselves far more often than we do. So, if such a vile man were by chance found, who lied from morning to night for money, could a woman be suspected of anything similar, especially a young lady brought up in a respectable family? Of course, something must have got into her head, and she must be bemused, if not by his personal charms, then by his position. Otherwise she couldn’t help betraying that she is playing a comedy, and the Baron would have noticed, for love looks through a microscope.
‘Yet, if a young girl can fall in love with such an old fool, why shouldn’t she fall in love with me?’
‘I keep coming back to myself,’ he whispered. ‘This notion has already become a kind of monomania.’
He opened the window which the Baron had closed and, to dispel his obsessive thoughts, began looking at the sky again. Pegasus was already fading to the west, and to the east rose Sagittarius, Orion, Canis Minor and Gemini. He eyed the manifold stars that were scattered in this section of the sky, and into his mind came that strange, invisible power of attraction, which binds distant worlds in one unity more strongly than material chains.
‘Attraction … attachment … They are one and the same, ultimately; a power so strong that it engulfs everything, so fertile that all lives comes from it. If we deprive the earth of its attachment to the sun, it would fly off into space and in a few years would be a block of ice. If we pushed some wandering star into the solar system, who knows that life mightn’t awaken on it? So why is the Baron to break down under the law of attachment, which pervades all nature? And is there a greater abyss between him and Ewelina than between earth and sun? What is surprising in human madness, since the world is equally mad.’
Meanwhile the train went more slowly and stopped for long periods in stations. The air grew cold, in the east the stars turned pale. Wokulski closed the window and lay down on the sofa. ‘If,’ he thought, ‘a young woman can fall in love with the Baron, why should not I …? For, after all, she is not deceiving him … In general women are nobler than we are … They lie less.’
‘If you please, sir, this is your station … The Baron is already taking tea …’
Wokulski roused himself: the conductor was standing over him, and had awakened him in the most respectful manner.
‘Morning already?’ he asked in surprise.
‘It is nine o’clock, we have been standing in the station half an hour. I didn’t wake you, for the Baron said not to, sir, but as the train is leaving now …’
Wokulski got out quickly. The station was new, not yet finished. Nevertheless, they provided him with water for washing, and brushed his clothes. He came to himself entirely and went into a small buffet, where the beaming Baron was at his third glass of tea. ‘Good morning!’ the Baron cried in a familiar way, shaking Wokulski’s hand. ‘Landlord, tea for the gentleman … A beautiful day, is it not, perfect for a horse-back ride. But they have played a