The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [308]
I will now finish off, with the utmost expedition, my account of a tragedy which ought to cause every noble heart to quake.
I’d almost forgotten the shameful law-suit brought by Baroness Krzeszowska against pure, innocent, wonderful Mrs Stawska, when — towards the end of January — two thunderbolts fell on us: the news that plague had broken out in Vietlanka, and a summons to court for Wokulski and me on the next day. My feet were hurting and the pain went from heels to knees, then to my stomach, aiming of course towards my heart. I thought to myself: ‘Is it plague or paralysis?’ But as Wokulski accepted his summons quite indifferently, I too took courage.
In the evening I went confidently to the ladies in their new apartment, and on the way I heard in the street ‘Clink-clink, clink-clink!’ Oh goodness, can they be taking away prisoners? What a terrible omen. … Dear me, what sad thoughts overcome me: what if the court doesn’t believe us? (mistakes are possible, after all), and suppose they should hurl that most noble of women in prison, for a week, even for a day! What then? She’d never survive, nor would I … Or if I did, then it would only be so that poor little Helena should have a guardian …
Yes! I must live. But what sort of life would it be?
I went into the house. Another tableau! Mrs Stawska sitting pale on a little stool, and Mrs Misiewicz with a kerchief soaked in cooling water over her head. The old lady smelled of camphor from two yards away and spoke in a mournful voice: ‘Oh, noble Mr Rzecki, who isn’t ashamed of unhappy humiliated women … Just fancy the misfortune: Helena’s court case tomorrow … Just think what will happen if the court makes a mistake, and condemns this unhappy woman to the hulks? But calm yourself, Helena, be brave, perhaps God will avert it … Though last night I had a terrible dream …’
(She had a dream, and I met prisoners … It won’t pass without a disaster!)
‘But,’ say I, ‘for goodness sake! Our case is proved, we’ll win it … Besides, what is this compared to the terrible matter of the plague?’ I added, to turn Mrs Misiewicz’s attention another way.
And I managed beautifully! For didn’t she shriek out: ‘The plague? Here in Warsaw? There now, Helena, didn’t I tell you? Ah, we’re all done for! During the plague everyone shuts themselves up indoors … They pass food to you on poles … They pull the dead bodies out on hooks!’
Ugh … I saw I’d upset the worthy old thing, so in order to stop her dwelling on the plague, I mentioned the trial again, whereupon the dear lady replied with a long exposition on the disgrace pursuing her family, on the possible imprisonment of Mrs Stawska, on the way the samovar was leaking … In a word, the last evening before the court case, when energy was most needed, that last evening passed for us between plague and death, disgrace and prison. My mind grew so muddled that when I found myself outside in the street I didn’t know whether to turn right or left.
Next morning (the case was to be heard at ten o’clock), I went by eight in a carriage to my ladies, but found no one home. They had all gone to confession: mother, daughter, granddaughter and cook, and they united themselves with God until nine-thirty while unfortunate I (after all, this was January) walked up and down in front of the gate in the frost, and thought: ‘A fine business! They’ll be late for court, if they aren’t already, the court will give a verdict in absentia, they’ll of course condemn Mrs Stawska, they’ll think she has absconded and will send out a warrant for her arrest … It’s always the way with these women!’
Finally all four of them arrived, with Wirski (can that pious man also have been to confession today?) and we went to court in two droshkies: I and Mrs Stawska and little Helena, Wirski with Mrs Misiewicz and the cook. Too bad they didn’t take the frying-pans, samovar and oil-stove with them! In front of