The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [298]
Of course, after all the excitement I couldn’t go to Mrs Stawska’s. At first I thought I wouldn’t sleep a wink all night. But somehow I dropped off. And when Staś came into the store next day, I asked him: ‘Do you know what people are saying? That you’re selling the store!’
‘Suppose I am — what would be wrong in that?’
(True enough! What would be wrong in it? Just fancy — such a simple thought never struck me!) ‘But, d’you know,’ I whispered, ‘they also say you’re going to marry Miss Łęcka.’
‘Suppose I were?’ he replied.
(He’s right! What, isn’t he allowed to marry anyone he chooses, even Mrs Stawska? Fancy me not realising it, and squabbling unnecessarily with Szprott on that account!)
Of course I had to go out again that evening, not so much for the beer, as to be reconciled with the unjustly offended Szprott, so again I didn’t call on Mrs Stawska, and didn’t warn her not to sit at the windows. So it wasn’t without sorrow that I learned dislike for Wokulski was increasing among tradespeople, that our store was to be sold and Staś will marry Miss Łęcka. I say ‘will’, for if he were not certain he wouldn’t have expressed himself so decisively to me.
Now I know for sure whom he was yearning for in Bulgaria, whom he acquired a fortune for by tooth and claw … God’s will be done … Just look, though, how far I’ve wandered from my topic … But now I’ll really set about describing the episode of Mrs Stawska, and will narrate it quick as a flash.
XXIX
The Journal of the Old Clerk
JUST AFTER eight I went to visit the ladies. As usual, Mrs Stawska was giving lessons to some young ladies in the other room, and Mrs Misiewicz and little Helena were sitting at the window — as usual. I don’t know what they-could see at night, but certainly everyone could see them. I’d have sworn that the Baroness, in one of her unlit windows, was sitting with opera-glasses, staring into the ground floor, for her blinds were not drawn.
I retired behind the curtain so that the monster should not see me, at least, and immediately asked Mrs Misiewicz: ‘My dear madam, no offence meant, but why do you ladies sit at the windows all the time? It isn’t nice …’
‘I’m not afraid of draughts,’ said the respectable matron, ‘and I take great pleasure in it. How can we help looking out of the window, when it’s our only entertainment? Do we go anywhere? Do we see anyone? Since Ludwik went away, our relations with other people have been broken off. For some, we’re too poor, for others — suspect …’ She wiped her eyes, then pursued: ‘Oh, poor Ludwik did wrong to run away: even if they’d sent him to prison, his innocence would have come to light, and we’d all be together again. But God alone knows where he is, and Helena … You tell us not to look out! Yet she, poor thing, keeps waiting, listening and watching for Ludwik to come back, or at least for a letter from him. If anyone runs across the yard, she rushes to the window at once, thinking it’s the postman. Or if the postman comes to our door (we, Mr Rzecki, very rarely get letters), then if you were to see Helena … She changes, turns pale, trembles …’
I dared not open my mouth, and after a pause the old lady went on: ‘I, too, like sitting in the window, especially if it’s a fine day and the sky is bright, for then my late lamented husband comes to mind, as if he were still alive.’
‘Yes,’ I murmured, ‘the sky reminds you of him because he now dwells there.’
‘Not in that respect, Mr Rzecki,’ she interrupted, ‘I know he’s in Heaven, for where else should such a good-natured man be? But when I look at the sky and at the walls of this house, the happy day of our wedding comes into my mind at once. The late lamented Klemens was wearing a blue frock-coat and yellow nankeen trousers, the very same colour as our house. Oh, Mr Rzecki,’ the old lady sobbed, ‘believe me when I say that for the likes of us, a window sometimes is as good as the theatre, a concert and friends. What else do