The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [319]
‘Is that so?’
‘Of course it is, I know who is lending money to Szlangbaum …’
‘Is Szlangbaum buying it?’
‘Who else? Maybe Klein, Lisiecki or Zięba? They’d never get the credit or, if they did, would squander it.’
‘There’s going to be trouble with the Jews,’ I muttered.
‘There already has been a great deal, it’s gone on for over eighteen centuries, and what’s the outcome? Very noble individuals have perished in anti-Jewish persecutions, and the only ones to survive were those who could protect themselves from destruction. So now what sort of Jews do we have? Persistent, patient, sly, self-reliant, quick-witted, and commanding a mastery of the one weapon left to them — money. By wiping out everything that was good, we have produced an artificial selection and protected the worst.’
‘Have you considered, though, that when your store gets into their hands, some dozen Jews will obtain well-paid work, and a dozen of our own people will lose it?’
‘That’s not my fault,’ said Wokulski, irritated. ‘It’s not my fault if the people with whom I have social contacts insist on my selling the store. Society will lose, that’s true, but that is what society wants.’
‘And your obligations?’
‘What obligations?’ he exclaimed. ‘Towards those who call me an exploiter, or to those who rob me? An obligation carried out ought to bring a man something, otherwise he’s a victim, from whom no one has the right to demand anything. And I, what do I have to gain? Hatred and cheating on one hand, contempt on the other. Just tell me — is there any crime I haven’t been accused of, and for what? For making a fortune, and giving subsistence to hundreds of people.’
‘You find slanderers everywhere.’
‘But nowhere to such an extent as here. Elsewhere, a parvenu like me would have enemies, but I’d also have recognition that would compensate for the injustices. But here …’
He made a gesture. I drank up another glass of tea and brandy in one gulp, to give myself courage. Staś, hearing footsteps in the passage, walked to the door. I guessed he was awaiting the Prince’s invitation. My head was already whirling, so I asked: ‘And do the people for whose sake you’re selling the store appreciate you any better?’
‘Suppose they do?’ he asked, pondering.
‘And will they love you more than the people you are deserting?’
He hastened to me and looked me swiftly in the eye. ‘If they do?’ he retorted.
‘Are you certain?’
He cast himself into an armchair. ‘How should I know?’ he murmured, ‘how should I know? What’s certain in this world?’
‘Has it never occurred to you,’ I said with increasing boldness, ‘that you may not only be exploited and cheated, but even laughed at and despised? Tell me, have you never thought of that? Anything can happen in the world, so one should take care to avoid, if not disappointment, then at least becoming a laughing-stock. The devil take it!’ I concluded, banging the table with my glass, ‘a man can make a sacrifice if he has the wherewithal, but he cannot let himself be misused.’
‘Who is misusing me?’ he cried, rising.
‘All the people who don’t respect you as you deserve.’
My own boldness appalled me, but Wokulski made no reply. He sat down on the sofa and clasped his hands behind his head, a sign of unusual emotion. Then he began talking about the store accounts in a completely calm voice. Towards nine, the door opened and Wokulski’s butler came in. ‘Here’s a letter from the Prince,’ he cried.
Staś bit his lip and stretched out one hand without rising. ‘Give it to me,’ he said, ‘and go to bed.’
The servant went out. Staś opened the envelope slowly, read the note — and after tearing it into several pieces — threw it into the stove.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘An invitation to the ball tomorrow,’ he replied, drily.
‘Aren’t you going?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’
I was dumbfounded. And suddenly the most brilliant idea