The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [275]
He contemplated the autumn sunshine, the grey stubble and the ploughs slowly moving across the fallow earth and, with profound grief in his soul, he imagined for a moment that he had entirely lost hope and resigned his place by Izabela to Ochocki: ‘What’s to be done? What shall I do if she chooses him? It was my misfortune ever to have met her …’
They rose on to a hilltop where a distant landscape lay before them, consisting of several villages, woods, a river, and a small town, with a church. The brake swayed from side to side: ‘Oh, what a splendid view!’ cried Mrs Wąsowska.
‘Like looking down from a balloon steered by Mr Ochocki,’ added Starski, clutching the rail.
‘Have you ever been in a balloon?’ asked Felicja.
‘Ochocki’s balloon?’
‘No, a real one …’
‘Alas, never,’ Starski sighed, ‘though I can imagine at this moment that I’m flying in a very paltry one.’
‘Mr Wokulski certainly has,’ said Miss Felicja in a tone of the utmost conviction.
‘Come, Felicja, what will you accuse Mr Wokulski of next?’ Mrs Wąsowska scolded her.
‘As a matter of fact, I have …’ said Wokulski in surprise.
‘You have? Oh, splendid,’ cried Felicja, ‘pray tell us all about it.’
‘You have?’ exclaimed Ochocki from the box, ‘hey there, wait a moment, I’ll join you.’
He tossed the reins to the groom, although they were driving downhill, jumped off the box and sat down in the brake opposite Wokulski. ‘So you’ve flown in a balloon?’ he repeated, ‘where was it? When?’
‘In Paris, but it was a captive balloon. Half a mile up, hardly any distance,’ replied Wokulski, somewhat embarrassed.
‘Pray go on … You must have had an enormous view. What did you feel?’ said Ochocki. He was strangely altered: his eyes widened, a flush appeared on his face. Looking at him it was hard to doubt that at this moment he had forgotten Izabela. ‘It must be a stupendous thrill … Go on, sir,’ he insisted, pressing Wokulski’s knee.
‘The view really was magnificent,’ Wokulski replied, ‘because the horizon was many miles wide, and the whole of Paris and its surroundings looked like a relief map. But the trip wasn’t agreeable: perhaps only the first time.’
‘What were your impressions?’
‘Odd … One thinks one is rising, then suddenly sees that one isn’t moving oneself, but that the ground is falling rapidly away. It’s such an unexpected and disappointing sight that … one feels like jumping out.’
Ochocki pondered and gazed before him at goodness knows what. Several times he seemed to want to jump out of the brake, and his companions, who were silent, apparently irritated him.
They drove into a field, followed by two servant-girls in a carriage. The ladies took baskets. ‘And now, each lady, with her cavalier, is to go in a different direction,’ commanded Mrs Wąsowska. ‘Mr Starski, I warn you that today I’m in an excellent humour, and what that means — Mr Wokulski already knows,’ she added, laughing excitedly, ‘Mr Ochocki, Bela — into the woods, pray, and don’t reappear until … you have picked a whole basket of mushrooms. Felicja!’
‘I am going with Michalina and Joanna,’ replied Miss Felicja hastily, glancing at Wokulski as though he were an enemy against whom she had to protect herself with the two servant-girls.
‘Let us be off, cousin,’ said Izabela to Ochocki, seeing that the company had already gone into the woods, ‘but pray take my basket and fill it yourself, for I must admit it doesn’t amuse me.’
Ochocki took the basket and threw it into the carriage. ‘What are mushrooms to me?’ he muttered sulkily, ‘I’ve wasted two months fishing, picking mushrooms, entertaining ladies and such-like nonsense. Other men have been up in balloons. I was going to Paris, but the Duchess insisted I should have my holiday here. A fine holiday I’ve had! I’ve grown utterly stupid. I can’t even