The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [297]
To respectable neighbours, this way of passing the time would be the finest proof of their respectability: they demonstrate in every way that they’ve nothing to hide. But when I recalled that the ladies were constantly being spied on by Maruszewicz and the Baroness, and when I also thought that the Baroness hates Mrs Stawska — then I was seized by the worst forebodings. That very evening, I wanted to hasten to my noble friends and urge them by all I hold sacred not to sit all the time in their windows, and not expose themselves to the Baroness’s spying. However, at nine-thirty precisely I felt thirsty, and went for a beer instead of going to the ladies.
Councillor Węgrowicz was there, as well as Szprott the commercial traveller. They were just saying something about the house that collapsed in Wspolna Street, when suddenly Węgrowicz clinked his tankard against mine and said: ‘More than one other house will collapse before New Year!’
Szprott winked. I didn’t care for that wink, as I have never liked winking, so I asked: ‘What, pray, are those grimaces supposed to mean?’
He laughed foolishly, and said: ‘You know better than we do. Wokulski’s selling his store …’
Good God! … I’m surprised I didn’t hit him over the head with my tankard. Fortunately I restrained my first impulse, drank two tankards of beer in rapid succession, and asked in an outwardly calm voice: ‘Why should Wokulski sell his store — and who to?’
‘Who to, indeed!’ Węgrowicz cried, ‘as if there weren’t enough Jews in Warsaw! Three or more of them will get together, and make Krakowskie Przedmieście horrible, thanks to Mr Wokulski, who keeps his own carriage and goes to visit the aristocracy in their country houses. Good God! I remember how the poor devil used to serve my beef cutlet at Hopfer’s … There’s nothing left now but to go to the wars and ransack the Turks.’
‘Why should he sell the store?’ I asked, pinching my knee to prevent my anger breaking out at the old wretch.
‘He’ll do well to sell it,’ Węgrowicz replied, taking up yet another tankard of beer, ‘what’s he doing among tradespeople, a gentleman like him, a diplomat, an innovator — who imports new merchandise? …’
‘I fancy there’s another reason,’ Szprott interrupted. ‘Wokulski is wooing Miss Łęcka, and although he’s been turned down, he keeps on calling, so he must have hopes … But Miss Łęcka wouldn’t marry a haberdashery merchant, not even if he is a diplomat and innovator.’
Sparks flew before my eyes. I banged my tankard on the table, and shouted: ‘You’re lying, sir, it’s all lies, Mr Szprott! And there’s my card,’ I added, casting my visiting-card on the table.
‘What are you giving me your card for?’ Szprott replied, ‘are you inviting me to a party, or what?’
‘I demand satisfaction, sir,’ I cried, still banging on the table.
‘Hoity-toity,’ said Szprott, wagging a finger at me. ‘It’s all right for you to demand satisfaction, for you’re a Hungarian officer. Murdering a man or two and having yourself chopped up into the bargain is bread and meat to you … But I, sir, am a commercial traveller, I have my wife, children and business to attend to.’
‘I’ll make you fight a duel!’
‘Make me? Will you get me there under police escort? If you was to say anything of the sort when you’re sober, I’d go to the police myself, and they’d show you what’s what.’
‘You’ve no pride, sir!’ I cried.
Now he began banging on the table too: ‘No pride? Who are you speaking to? Don’t I pay my bills, do I sell bad goods, have I ever gone bankrupt? We’ll see who has pride — in Court!’
‘Calm down,’ Councillor Węgrowicz implored, ‘duels were fashionable long ago, not now … Shake hands.’
I rose from the table,