The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [317]
‘And what does she have to say to this?’
‘Wretched woman!’ said the doctor, shrugging. ‘Instead of despising the throng which has already deserted her several times, she revels in their society. Everyone sees that, and the worst is that — Wokulski sees it too.’
‘Why in the devil’s name doesn’t he leave her? It’s all very well for some, but surely he won’t let himself be made a fool of?’
The samovar was brought. Szuman dismissed the servant, and poured tea. ‘You see,’ he said, ‘he would certainly quit her if he were able to evaluate things sensibly. There was a moment last night at the ball, when the lion awoke in Staś, and when he went to exchange a few words with Miss Łęcka, I’d have sworn he said to her: “Goodnight, madam, I’ve seen your cards and won’t play with them!” The expression he had, as he went over to her! But what of it? The young lady gave him a look, whispered, pressed his hand, and my Staś was so happy all evening, so happy that … today he wants to put a bullet through his head — if it weren’t that he’s expecting another of those looks, another whisper and touch of the hand … The fool doesn’t see that she distributes the very same favours to ten men, and in much bigger doses.’
‘What sort of woman is she?’
‘Like hundreds and thousands of others. Pretty, spoiled, but soulless. To her, Wokulski’s value equals his money and importance: he’s all right for a husband, of course — for want of a better. But for her lovers, she chooses men that suit her book. And yet he,’ Szuman went on, ‘in Hopfer’s cellar and on the steppe, fed himself on the heroines of Romantic poetry and such-like chimeras, so that he sees a divinity in Miss Łęcka. He doesn’t merely love her, he adores her, he worships her, would gladly fall on his knees before her … A bitter awakening awaits him! For, although he’s a full-blooded Romantic, he isn’t going to imitate Mickiewicz who forgave the woman who mocked him, even yearned for her after the betrayal, bah! then made her immortal. A fine lesson for our young ladies; if you want fame, betray your most fervent admirers! We Poles are condemned to act as fools even in a matter as simple as love.’
‘Do you think, doctor, that Wokulski will be such a fool?’ I asked, feeling the blood boil within me as it did at Vilagos.
Szuman almost jumped out of his chair. ‘Oh, damnation!’ he cried, ‘nowadays a man can go crazy until he tells himself “Suppose she loves me, suppose she’s what I think she is?” But if he doesn’t notice that they’re mocking him, I … I’d be the first, though a Jew, to spit in his face … Such a man may be unhappy, but he doesn’t have the right to be abject.’
Not for long had I seen Szuman so irritated. He’s a Jew from top to toe, but a true friend and a man with a sense of honour. ‘Well,’ said I, ‘calm yourself, doctor. I have the cure for Staś.’
And I told him everything I knew about Mrs Stawska, adding, ‘I’ll die, I promise you that, doctor, if I don’t marry Staś to Mrs Stawska. She’s a woman with sense and feeling, and will repay love with love, and he needs just such a woman.’
Szuman shook his head and raised his eyebrows: ‘Well, try it … The only cure for one woman is another. Though I’m afraid the cure is too late.’
‘He’s a man of iron,’ I interposed.
‘And therefore dangerous,’ the doctor replied. ‘It’s hard to erase what has once been written in such a man’s soul, and difficult to repair what is broken.’
‘Mrs Stawska