The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [322]
I looked around. Goodness, what clouds of snow! I could barely see the gas-lights flickering in the wind. Bed-time.
Wanting to hail a sledge, I crossed the street, and … almost bumped into Wokulski … standing under a tree, covered with snow, staring into the windows: ‘So that’s it! Even if it’s the death of me, my friend, you’re to marry Mrs Stawska!’
Faced with this peril, I decided to act energetically. Next morning I went to Szuman, and said: ‘Do you know, doctor, what has happened to Staś?’
‘What, did he break a leg?’
‘Worse. Despite being invited twice, he wasn’t at the Prince’s ball but around midnight he disappeared from his house, and there, standing out in the snow, he watched the windows. Do you understand me?’
‘I do. No need to be a psychiatrist, for that.’
‘So,’ I went on, ‘I have decided irrevocably to marry off Staś this year, even before Midsummer Day.’
‘To Miss Łęcka?’ the doctor caught me up. ‘I’d advise you not to get involved in that.’
‘Not to Miss Łęcka, but to Mrs Stawska.’
The doctor began tapping his head: ‘It’s a madhouse,’ he cried. ‘Everyone included … You obviously have water on the brain, Mr Rzecki,’ he added, a moment later.
‘You insult me, sir!’ I cried impatiently.
He stopped, seized my lapels and said crossly: ‘Listen to me, sirrah … I’ll use a simile you ought to understand. If you have a drawer full of wallets, for example, could you put ties in the same drawer? You couldn’t. So, if Wokulski has his heart full of Miss Łęcka, how can you push Mrs Stawska in?’
I disentangled his hands from my lapels, and replied: ‘I’d take out the wallets and put the ties in, d’you see, learned sir?’
And I left at once, for his arrogance vexed me. He thinks he has a monopoly of common sense. From the doctor I went to Mrs Misiewicz. Mrs Stawska was at her store, I sent Helena into the other room to her toys, sat myself down with the old lady and began without more ado: ‘Dear madam! Do you think that Wokulski is an honourable man?’
‘Oh, my dear Mr Rzecki, how can you ask such a thing? He lowered the rent in his own house for us, saved Helena from disgrace, gave her a position at seventy-five roubles, sent little Helena ever so many toys …’
‘Very well,’ I interrupted, ‘if you agree, madam, that he is a fine man, you must also admit, in the utmost secrecy, that he is very unfortunate.’
‘For goodness sake!’ the old lady crossed herself, ‘he unfortunate, who has such a store, a company, a huge fortune? He who recently sold his apartment house! Unless he has debts I know nothing of.’
‘Not a penny,’ I said, ‘and, after settling his business affairs, he has some six hundred thousand roubles, although two years ago he only had thirty thousand, plus the store of course. But, madam, money isn’t everything, for a man has a heart as well as a pocket-book.’
‘Yet I hear he’s getting married, to a pretty young lady, a Miss Łęcka.’
‘That is his misfortune: Wokulski cannot, must not marry her.’
‘Is there something the matter with him? Such a healthy man …’
‘He must not marry Miss Łęcka, she is no match for him. He needs a wife like …’
‘Like my Helena!’ Mrs Misiewicz interposed promptly.
‘That’s it!’ I cried, ‘and not only like her, but her in person. Her very self, Mrs Helena Stawska is what we need for his wife.’
The old lady burst into tears: ‘Do you know, my dear Mr Rzecki, that this is my fondest wish? For I’ll give my word that good Ludwik is dead … I’ve dreamed of him so often, and every time he was either naked, or somehow different from what he used to be …’
‘Besides,’ said I, ‘even if he isn’t dead, we’ll get a divorce.’
‘That’s it! Everything can be got for money.’
‘Just so! The whole point is that Mrs Stawska mustn’t be obstinate.’
‘Worthy Mr Rzecki!’ cried the dear old lady, ‘she, I promise you, is in love, poor little thing, with Wokulski. Her good humour is gone, she doesn’t sleep nights, only sighs, the poor little woman’s growing