The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [278]
‘Thank you, madam. By that phrase you have shown me that, in your eyes, I stand no lower than the Messrs Starski, the marshals and such-like … I understand that even under these conditions, I still may never win your affection … That is still far off… But at least I know I have human rights, and from now on, you will judge me by my actions, not by titles I don’t possess.’
‘You are a gentleman, and the Duchess says you are as good as the Starskis, even the Zasławskis.’
‘Indeed I am, even more so than many of the people I meet in the drawing-rooms. My misfortune is that, in your eyes, I’m also a tradesman.’
‘Well, you don’t have to be, that depends on you,’ said Izabela, more boldly.
Wokulski considered this. At that moment the others began calling and hallooing in the wood, and within a few minutes all the company, with servants, baskets and mushrooms, appeared in the meadow.
‘Let’s go back,’ said Mrs Wąsowska, ‘mushrooms bore me, and it’s time for luncheon.’
The next few days passed in a strange manner for Wokulski: had he been asked what they meant to him, he would surely have replied they were a dream of happiness, one of those periods in life for which, perhaps, nature brought man into the world.
An indifferent observer might have thought the days monotonous, even boring. Ochocki sulked from morning to night, glued together and launched ingenious forms of gliders. Mrs Wąsowska and Felicja read, or worked on an altar cloth for the local priest. Starski played cards with the Duchess and Baron.
So Wokulski and Izabela were entirely isolated, and even had to be together continually. They walked in the park or in the meadows, they sat under an ancient linden tree in the courtyard, but mostly they boated on the lake. He rowed, she from time to time threw a crust to swans which swam silently after them. More than one passer-by paused on the highroad and gazed in wonder at the unusual group formed by the white boat, with two people seated in it, and the two white swans with their wings raised like sails.
Later, Wokulski could not even recollect what they talked about at such moments. Mostly they were silent. Once, she asked him how snails could move under the surface of the water: then again — why do clouds have different colours? He explained, and it seemed to him he was gathering all nature from earth to sky in his arms and placing it at her feet.
One day it occurred to him that if she were to order him to plunge into the water, and perish, he would have died blessing her.
During these excursions on the lake and also during their walks in the park, and whenever they were together, he felt an immeasurable peace within him, and the whole world from east to west was full of tranquillity, in which even the rattle of carriages, barking dogs or rustling leaves were wonderfully beautiful melodies. He seemed no longer to be walking, but floating across an ocean of mystical bemusement, he was no longer thinking or feeling or desiring — only loving. The hours disappeared like lightning flashes that blaze and perish on a distant horizon. No sooner was it morning, than it was already afternoon, then evening — and a night, full of restlessness and sighs. Sometimes he thought the day had been divided into two unequal parts: a day briefer than the twinkling of an eye, and a night longer than the eternity of damned souls.
One day the Duchess summoned him: ‘Be seated, Stanisław,’ she said, ‘well, are you enjoying yourself here?’
He shuddered like a man suddenly aroused. ‘Me?’ he asked.
‘Are you bored?’
‘I’d give my life for a year of such — boredom.’
The old lady shook her head. ‘Sometimes one thinks so,’ she replied. ‘I don’t know who it was that said man is happiest when he sees around him that which he carries within himself. But never mind asking why one is happy, providing one is. Forgive me if I awaken you.’
‘Pray continue, madam,’ he replied, involuntarily turning pale.
The Duchess was still gazing at him, shaking her head slightly: ‘Well, you needn