The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [253]
‘Where? Who?’ cried the Baron, almost climbing on to the box. ‘Ah yes, it is they … A yellow brake with piebald foursome … I wonder who it can be? Just look, sir.’
‘It seems to me I can see something red,’ Wokulski replied.
‘That’s Mrs Wąsowska. I wonder if my fiancée is with her?’ added the Baron in a lower voice.
‘There are several ladies,’ said Wokulski, who was thinking at this moment of Izabela. ‘If she is with them, that will be a good omen,’ he thought.
Both carriages approached one another rapidly. There was a violent cracking of a whip, cries and the waving of handkerchiefs from the brake: while in the other carriage, the Baron was leaning still further out and trembling with excitement. The carriage stopped, but the brake passed it headlong in a storm of laughter and cries, and stopped a dozen yards away. Clearly something was being discussed in a noisy manner, and must have been decided, for all the company got out and the brake drove on.
‘Good morning, Mr Wokulski!’ someone cried from the box, waving a long whip. Wokulski recognised Ochocki. The Baron ran towards the company. A lady in a white scarf, carrying a white lace parasol, came slowly towards him, her hands outstretched, the wide sleeves falling away. The Baron took off his hat at a distance and, on reaching his fiancée, almost buried himself in her sleeve. After an outburst of emotion which, though to him was short, seemed very long to the spectators, the Baron suddenly recollected himself and said: ‘Madam, allow me to introduce Mr Wokulski, my best friend … As he will be staying here some time, I hereby call upon him to take my place at your side when I am away.’
He again implanted several kisses in the depths of the sleeve, from which a beautiful hand stretched towards Wokulski. He pressed it, and felt an icy chill: he looked at the lady in the white scarf and saw a pale face with huge eyes, in which sorrow and fear were apparent.
‘An unusual fiancée,’ he thought.
‘Mr Wokulski,’ cried the Baron, turning to two ladies and a man who had by now approached: ‘Mr Starski …’ he added.
‘I’ve already had the pleasure,’ said Starski, taking his hat off.
‘I too,’ Wokulski replied.
‘How shall we fit in now?’ asked the Baron, seeing that the brake had driven up.
‘Let us all ride together,’ cried a young blonde girl whom Wokulski guessed to be Felicja Janocka.
‘There are two seats in our carriage,’ observed the Baron, sweetly.
‘I understand, but none of that,’ exclaimed a lady in a red dress, with a beautiful contralto voice, ‘the engaged couple will come with us, and Mr Ochocki and Mr Starski can go in the carriage, if they like.’
‘Why me?’ asked Ochocki from the box.
‘Or I?’ added Starski.
‘Because Mr Ochocki drives atrociously, and Mr Starski is impossible,’ said the widow firmly.
Now Wokulski noticed that this lady had superb chestnut hair and black eyes, and her entire countenance was lively and energetic.
‘So you dismiss me already?’ Starski sighed in a droll manner.
‘You know I always dismiss admirers who bore me. Now, let us get in, ladies and gentlemen. The engaged couple first. Fela next to Ewelina.’
‘Oh no,’ the blonde girl protested, ‘I shall get in last, for grandmama does not let me sit next to the engaged couple.’
The Baron, with more elegance than skill, handed in his fiancée, and sat down opposite her. Then the widow took the seat next to the Baron, Starski next to the fiancée, and Felicja next to him.
‘If you please …’ the widow cried to Wokulski, drawing in the folds of her red dress, which had spread over half the seat. Wokulski sat down opposite Felicja, and noticed that the young lady was looking at him with admiration and surprise, blushing now and then.
‘Couldn’t we ask Mr Ochocki to give the reins back to the driver?’ asked the widow.
‘My dear