The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [321]
In the middle of supper, a good or perhaps bad spirit directed Mrs Misiewicz’s eyes to the Courier. ‘Just look, Helena,’ she said to her daughter, ‘there’s a ball tonight at the Prince’s.’
Wokulski grew sombre and instead of gazing into Mrs Stawska’s eyes, began staring at his plate. Taking courage, I remarked, not without irony: ‘Just think of all the fine company to be at such a one’s as the Prince’s! Costumes, refinement …’
‘Not as fine as you might suppose,’ the old lady replied. ‘Often the dresses aren’t paid for, and as for refinement! One thing is certain — it’ll be one thing in the drawing-room with the counts and princes, but another in the cloakroom, with the poor people.’
How very apt the old lady was, with her criticism. ‘Just listen to her, Staś,’ I thought, and I went on to inquire: ‘So great ladies aren’t very refined in the way they treat working girls?’
‘My dear sir!’ replied Mrs Misiewicz, with a wave of the hand, ‘we know one shop-girl those ladies give work to, for she is very clever and cheap. Sometimes she’s in floods of tears when she comes back from them. How often she has to wait to fit a dress, to make improvements, for the bill! And their tone of voice in conversation, such rudeness, such bargaining … This shop-girl says (upon my word!) that she’d sooner deal with four Jewish women than with one great lady. Though no doubt nowadays the Jewesses have become spoiled too: when one of ’em gets rich, she starts talking nothing but French, bargaining, complaining …’
I wanted to ask if Miss Łęcka dressed with this shop-girl. But I was sorry for Staś. His face had changed so, poor devil.
After tea, Helena began setting up the toys she’d just received on the carpet, exclaiming with joy; Mrs Misiewicz and I sat by the windows (the old lady just can’t keep away from those windows!), while Wokulski and Mrs Stawska installed themselves on the couch: she had some sewing, he a cigarette.
As the dear old lady began telling me with the utmost enthusiasm what an excellent county prefect her late husband had been, I didn’t hear very much of what Mrs Stawska and Wokulski were saying. But it must have been interesting, for they said in low voices: ‘I saw you, madam, at the Carmelites, at the graves.’
‘And I recall you best, sir, when you came to the apartment house where we were living, last summer. And I don’t know why, but it seemed to me …’
‘And the trouble there was with the passports! … Goodness knows who collected them, who he gave them back to, whose names he wrote in them …’ Mrs Misiewicz was telling me.
‘Of course, as often as you please,’ said Mrs Stawska, blushing.
‘And I won’t be intruding?’
‘A charming couple,’ I said in an undertone to Mrs Misiewicz.
She glanced at them and replied, sighing: ‘What of it, even supposing poor Ludwik is dead?’
‘Let’s trust in God …’
‘That he’s alive?’ asked the old lady, not betraying any delight at all.
‘No, I don’t mean that …’
‘Mama, I want to go to bed now,’ Helena exclaimed.
Wokulski rose from the sofa and bade goodbye to both ladies. ‘Who knows,’ thought I, ‘if the fish hasn’t taken the bait?’
Outdoors snow was still falling: Staś accompanied me home and waited in the sledge until I’d entered the gate, I don’t know why. I walked in, then paused in the passage. And only then, when the door-man had shut the gate, did I hear the bells of the departing sledge in the street. ‘So that’s it, is it?’ I thought. ‘Let’s see where you’re off to now.’
I dropped in at my room, put on my old greatcoat and top-hat and thus disguised went out half an hour later into the streets. Staś’s apartment was in darkness, so he wasn’t home. Where might he be? I hailed a passing sledge and got out a few minutes later not far from the Prince’s house. Several carriages were standing in the street, others still driving up; already the first floor