The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [283]
Węgiełek ran off down the hill-side. Izabela glanced at Wokulski. She was pale and moved. ‘What are the verses?’ she asked, stretching out her hand. Wokulski handed her the page: she began reading in an undertone: ‘In every place, every hour, where I wept with you, played with you — I shall be with you always and everywhere, for I left there part of my soul.’
Her voice dropped to a whisper. Her lips quivered, tears came into her eyes. For a moment she crumpled the sheet, then slowly turned away her head and the page fell to the ground. Wokulski knelt to recover it. Then he touched Izabela’s dress, and no longer aware of what he was doing, he seized her by the hand: ‘You will awaken, my princess …’ he said.
‘I don’t know … Perhaps …’ she replied.
‘Hey there!’ Starski called from below, ‘come along, lunch will get cold.’
Izabela dabbed her eyes, and hastily left the ruin. Wokulski went after her.
‘What were you doing so long?’ Starski asked with a smile, giving his hand to Izabela, who quickly took it.
‘We were listening to an unusual story,’ Izabela replied, ‘really, I never knew that such legends could exist in this country, and that simple people could tell them in such an interesting manner. What are you giving us for lunch, cousin? Ah, that young fellow was inimitable. Ask him to tell you …’
Wokulski was no longer vexed because Izabela was walking with Starski, leaning on his arm and even flirting with him. The emotion he had witnessed, and her one insignificant phrase had dispelled all his fears. He was immersed in a tranquil meditation, where not only Starski but the entire company had disappeared from before his eyes.
Later, he recalled going up the hill to the oak tree, eating hungrily, being merry, talkative and even flirting with Felicja. But what they said, and what he replied — he never knew.
The sun was setting and clouds had appeared in the sky when Starski told the servants to clear away the cutlery, baskets and carpet, and proposed going home. They got into the brake in the same order as before. After wrapping Ewelina in her shawls, the Baron leaned over to Wokulski and murmured with a smile: ‘If you continue in your present mood for one day more, you’ll turn all the ladies’ heads.’
‘Oh, well …’ replied Wokulski, with a shrug.
He sat at the end of the brake, opposite Felicja. Ochocki took his place by the coachman, and they drove off. The sky clouded over, darkness was falling fast. Yet it was very gay inside the brake, thanks to a squabble between Mrs Wąsowska and Ochocki, who forgot his balloons and, dangling his legs over the edge of the box, turned to the company. Suddenly, wishing to light a cigarette, he struck a match and illuminated the entire interior, Starski most of all.
At this moment, Wokulski recoiled violently: something had flashed before his eyes. ‘Nonsense,’ he thought, ‘I’ve drunk too much …’
Mrs Wąsowska burst into a brief laugh, but at once controlled herself and began speaking: ‘What a very original way of sitting, Mr Ochocki … Fie, tomorrow you’ll have to kneel. Ah, unworthy creature, he’ll be putting his feet on someone’s knees next. Turn around at once, sir, or I’ll tell the coachman to leave you by the wayside.’
Cold sweat broke out on Wokulski’s forehead, but he shrugged and thought: ‘Premonitions — premonitions! What nonsense …’
And he dispelled them with a superhuman effort of will … He regained his good humour, and began talking to Mrs Wąsowska very gaily.
But when they returned to Zasławek late at night, he slept like a log, and even had an amusing dream. Next morning, when Wokulski went for a stroll before breakfast, the first person he met in the yard was Izabela’s chambermaid: she was carrying several gowns, and a boy dragging a trunk came after her.
‘What’s this?’ he thought, ‘today is Sunday, surely she isn’t leaving … She can’t leave on a Sunday. Besides, she or the Duchess would have mentioned it to me.’
He walked to the lake, hurried