The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [309]
‘Oh, my dear Mr Wokulski, who isn’t ashamed of poor women covered in …’ Mrs Misiewicz began. But Staś gave her his arm, the lawyer Mrs Stawska, Wirski took little Helena by the hand, and I assisted Marianna, and thus we went into the court-room.
It reminded me of a school: the judge was sitting on an elevation, like a professor at his desk, and facing him on two rows of benches were lodged the accused and witnesses. At this moment, my youthful years came so clearly to my mind, that I involuntarily glanced to the stove, certain I would see there a porter with his cane, and the bench on which we were whipped. I even wanted, in my absent-minded way, to cry out: ‘I won’t do it again, teacher!’ but I recollected myself in time.
We began installing our ladies on the benches, and squabbling as we did so with the Jews who, as I later was informed, are the most patient of all audiences at court cases, especially those involving stealing or cheating. We even found a seat for honest Marianna, whose face, as she sat down, looked as though she wanted to cross herself and say a prayer.
Wokulski, our lawyer and I placed ourselves on the front bench, next to an individual in a torn overcoat with a black eye, at whom one of the policemen was looking in a nasty manner.
‘Some other incident with the police, no doubt,’ thought I.
Suddenly my mouth dropped open of its own accord for surprise: for I now perceived a whole crowd of persons known to me in front of the judge’s bench. To the left of the table was Baroness Krzeszowska, her poor little thing of a lawyer and that scoundrel Maruszewicz, while to the right were the two students. One was marked by his very shabby overcoat and unusually fluent speech; the other by a still shabbier overcoat, a coloured scarf around his neck, and he looked, goodness me, as if he’d escaped from a morgue.
I looked more closely at him. Yes, it was he, the same skinny young man who, during Wokulski’s first visit to Mrs Stawska, had dropped a herring on the Baroness’s head. The dear fellow! But I never saw anyone so thin and yellow-looking.
At first, I thought a court case was going on between these charming young men and the Baroness in respect to that herring. Then, however, I realised that something else was the matter — namely, that Baroness Krzeszowska, now that she was the owner of the house, wanted to expel from it her most fervent enemies, who were at the same time her least profitable tenants. The case between the Baroness and the young men had reached its climax.
One of the students, a handsome lad with whiskers and sideburns, rising on tiptoe and falling back on his heels, was telling the judge something: meanwhile he was executing circular movements with his right hand, and with his left twirling his moustache, sticking out his little finger which was adorned by a ring without any jewels in it.
The second young man was gloomily silent, hiding himself behind his colleague. I noticed something odd in his attitude: he was pressing both hands to his chest, with his palms extended as though he were holding a book or picture.
‘What are your names, gentlemen?’ asked the judge.
‘Maleski,’ said the owner of the side-burns with a bow, ‘and Patkiewicz,’ he added, indicating his gloomy companion with a very distinguished gesture.
‘But where is the third gentlemen?’
‘He’s poorly,’ Mr Maleski replied airily, ‘he is our sub-tenant, and in any case he very rarely stays in our apartment.’
‘How so? Very rarely? Where does he go by day?’
‘He’s at the University, in the anatomical laboratory, sometimes having dinner.’
‘But at night?’
‘In that respect, I can only give you confidential information, your honour.’
‘But where is he registered as living?’
‘Oh, he’s registered