The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [331]
Wokulski was taken aback: ‘Poor, worthy old lady … If I were sure my arrival wouldn’t alarm her, I’d go … Does she have people to look after her?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Izabela replied. ‘Baron Dalski is there, with his wife,’ she smiled, ‘for Ewelina has already married the Baron. Fela Janocka is there, and … Starski.’
A slight blush appeared on her face, and she fell silent.
‘Such are the consequences of my tactlessness,’ thought Wokulski. ‘She has noticed that Starski is odious to me, and now grows embarrassed at any mention of his name. How vile of me!’
He wanted to say something cordial about Starski, but nothing came. To break the awkward silence, he said: ‘Where are you going for the summer?’
‘Goodness knows. Aunt Hortensja is rather sickly, so perhaps we shall go to see her in Cracow. I must admit I’d prefer Switzerland, if it depended on me.’
‘On who else?’
‘On my father … Besides, goodness knows what may happen,’ she replied, blushing and glancing at Wokulski in a manner all her own.
‘Let us suppose that everything goes as you wish,’ he said, ‘would you, then, accept me as a companion?’
‘If you deserve it …’
She said this in such a tone of voice that Wokulski lost control of himself, for the umpteenth time this year. ‘How can I earn your kindness?’ he asked, taking her hand. ‘Pity? No, not pity. That is a feeling as disagreeable for the giver as for the taker. I don’t want pity. But pray consider, what shall I do without seeing you for so long? It’s true that even now we meet very rarely; you can’t begin to guess how time drags for those who are waiting … But as long as you’re in Warsaw, I tell myself “I’ll see her again tomorrow … the day after tomorrow … “Besides, if not you yourself, at least I can see your father, Mikołaj, this house … Ah, you could do a merciful act and terminate — I don’t know … my sufferings, my premonitions — with a single word. After all, you know the saying that the worst certainty is better than any uncertainty.’
‘And if the certainty be not the worst?’ asked Izabela, without looking into his eyes.
The bell rang in the hall and after a moment Mikołaj presented the visiting cards of Messrs Rydzewski and Pieczarkowski.
‘Ask them in,’ said Izabela.
Two very elegant men entered the drawing-room, one being characterised by narrow shoulders and a quite marked bald spot, the other by caressing glances and a subtle manner of speaking. They entered side by side, holding their hats at precisely the same elevation. They bowed in an identical manner, sat down in an identical manner, and crossed their legs in an identical manner, after which Mr Rydzewski began trying to keep his shoulders straight, and Mr Pieczarkowski to speak without drawing breath.
He said that at present the Christian world was celebrating Lent with parties, that before Lent there had been the Carnival, during which everyone enjoyed themselves no end, and that the worst time would come after Lent, when no one would know what to do. He then informed Izabela that during Lent, as well as parties, there were lectures, at which one could pass the time very agreeably if one were sitting next to ladies of one’s acquaintance, and that the most elegant receptions during Lent were at the Rzezuchowskis. ‘Quite delightful, quite original, I assure you,’ he said. ‘The supper, of course, is the usual thing — oysters, lobster, fish, meat — but to finish, for those who like it — guess what? Genuine porridge … what kind was it?’
‘Bordeaux,’ interrupted Mr Rydzewski, for the first and last time.
‘Not Bordeaux — buckwheat. Quite marvellous, quite heavenly! Each grain looked as if it had been cooked separately. We really set to — I, Prince Kiełbik, Count Sledziński … Quite fabulous! It was served in the ordinary way, in silver bowls …’
Izabela was gazing at the speaker with such interest, emphasising his every word with a movement, smile or glance in such a way that everything began swimming