The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [276]
He made a gesture, then put both hands into his pockets and walked off into the wood, head bent, muttering.
‘A charming companion,’ Izabela exclaimed to Wokulski with a smile. ‘He’ll be like this until the end of the holiday. I knew he’d be upset as soon as Starski mentioned balloons.’
‘Thank Heaven for those balloons,’ Wokulski thought, ‘a rival like this for Izabela isn’t dangerous.’ And at this moment he felt very fond of Ochocki.
‘I’m sure,’ he said to Izabela, ‘that your cousin will produce some great invention one day. Who knows — perhaps he will be an epoch in the history of mankind,’ he added, thinking of Geist’s projects.
‘You think so?’ Izabela replied, quite indifferently, ‘perhaps … Yet my cousin is sometimes impertinent, which occasionally suits him, but then again he can be a bore, which doesn’t suit even an inventor. When I look at him, an anecdote about Newton comes into my mind. He’s supposed to have been a great man, isn’t he? But what of it, when he was sitting with a young lady one day, took hold of her hand — would you believe it! — and began cleaning his pipe with her little finger! If a genius does that, I wouldn’t thank you for a husband who was one — Let’s walk a little into the woods, shall we?’
Each of Izabela’s words fell into Wokulski’s heart like a drop of sweetness: ‘So she likes Ochocki — who doesn’t — but won’t marry him …’
They walked along a narrow path which formed the limit of two woods: to the right oaks and beeches grew, to the left were pinetrees. Mrs Wąsowska’s red bodice gleamed between the pines from time to time, or the white veil of Ewelina could be seen. At one point the path forked, and Wokulski wished to turn aside, but Izabela prevented him: ‘No, no,’ she said, ‘don’t let’s go that way, for we shall lose sight of the others, and the woods are only attractive to me when there are other people about. At this moment, for instance, I can understand them … Just look … Isn’t that part like a huge church? The rows of pines are columns, there’s a side nave, and there the great altar. Just look! Now the sun between the boughs looks like a Gothic window. What an extraordinary variety of sights! There you have a lady’s boudoir, and those low bushes are her dressing-table. There’s even a mirror, which yesterday’s rain left behind. And this is a street, isn’t it? Rather crooked, but a street all the same … And yonder is a market-place or square. Do you see it all?’
‘I do, when you point it out,’ Wokulski replied with a smile, ‘but one needs a very poetic imagination to see the resemblances.’
‘Really? Yet I’ve always thought myself the embodiment of prose.’
‘Perhaps because you haven’t yet had an opportunity to discover all your capabilities,’ Wokulski replied, displeased because Felicja was approaching.
‘What’s this, aren’t you picking mushrooms?’ Felicja cried, ‘they’re marvellous: there are so many we haven’t enough baskets and must empty them into the carriage. Shall I get you a basket, Bela?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Or you, sir?’
‘I don’t think I could tell a mushroom from a toadstool,’ Wokulski replied.
‘Capital!’ cried Felicja, ‘I never expected such a retort from you … I’ll tell grandmama, and shall ask her not to let any of the gentlemen eat mushrooms, or at least not the ones I pick.’
She nodded and walked off.
‘You’ve vexed her,’ said Izabela, ‘that wasn’t nice. She is well disposed towards you.’
‘Felicja takes pleasure in picking mushrooms, I in listening to you talking about the woods.’
‘That is very flattering,’ said Izabela, blushing a little, ‘but I’m sure my lectures will soon bore you. The woods aren’t always beautiful in my eyes, sometimes they are terrible. If I were alone here, I should certainly not see any streets, churches or boudoirs. When I’m alone, the woods alarm me. They stop being a stage setting, and begin to be something I don’t understand, and which I fear. The birds’ voices are so wild, sometimes I hear a sudden cry of pain, or sometimes mockery, because I have