The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [334]
Plunged in this inner conflict, which she could not confide in anyone, Mrs Stawska failed to notice the changes in Mrs Miller’s attitude, her smiles and insinuations.
‘How’s Mr Wokulski?’ the shop woman would sometimes ask. ‘Today you look wretched … Mr Wokulski ought not to let you work so …’
One day, about the middle of March, Mrs Stawska came home to find her mother in tears. ‘What is it, mama? … What has happened?’ she inquired.
‘Nothing, nothing, my child. Am I to poison your life with gossip? Good God, how detestable people are!’
‘You must have had an anonymous letter. I keep getting anonymous letters every few days, which call me Wokulski’s mistress, but what of it? I guess it is the work of Baroness Krzeszowska, and throw the letters into the fire.’
‘No, no, my child … If it were only an anonymous letter … But that worthy Mrs Denowa and Mrs Radzińska were here today … But why should I poison your life? They say (apparently it’s to be heard all over town) that instead of going to the shop, you visit Wokulski …’
For the first time in her life, a lioness awoke in Mrs Stawska. She raised her head high, her eyes flashed and she replied firmly: ‘Even if it were so, what then?’
‘For goodness sake, what are you saying!’ her mother groaned, pressing her hands together.
‘What if it were so?’ Mrs Stawska insisted.
‘And your husband?’
‘Where is he? Anyway, let him kill me …’
‘But your daughter? … Little Helena?’ the old lady whispered.
‘Let’s not talk of her, but of me …’
‘Helena … my child … But you aren’t …?’
‘His mistress? No, I’m not, because he hasn’t asked me. What do I care for Mrs Denowa or Mrs Radzińska, or my husband who has deserted me? I don’t know what has come over me … I only feel that this man has taken away my soul.’
‘Be sensible, at least … Besides …’
‘I am, as far as I can be. But I care nothing for a world that condemns two people to torture, simply because they love one another. Hatred is allowed,’ she added, with a bitter smile, ‘stealing, killing — everything is allowed, except love. Ah, mama, if I am not right, then why did not Christ say to people “Be sensible” instead of “Love one another”?’
Mrs Misiewicz fell silent, alarmed by this unexpected outburst. She felt that the heavens were falling when such phrases came from the lips of this dove, the like of which she had never heard, never read, which had never occurred to her, not even when she had typhus.
Next day Rzecki called: he entered with a troubled expression, and when she told him everything, he left, broken. Because that very day, an incident had occurred: who had come to the store to see Szlangbaum but Maruszewicz, and they’d talked for nearly an hour. The other clerks, on hearing that Szlangbaum was buying the store, had grown meek before him at once. But Ignacy stiffened, and when Maruszewicz left, he immediately inquired: ‘What business do you have with that scoundrel, Henryk?’
But Szlangbaum had already stiffened too, so he replied to Mr Rzecki, thrusting out his lower lip: ‘Maruszewicz wants to borrow money for the Baron and obtain a position for himself, for they’re already saying in town that Wokulski is handing his company over to me. He promises me in return that the Baron and Baroness will call on me, at home.’
‘And will you receive such a viper?’ asked Rzecki.
‘Why ever not? The Baron will be for me, and the Baroness for my wife. In my soul, I’m a democrat, but what am I to do, if foolish people think a drawing-room looks better with barons and counts in it than it does without ’em? A lot is done for the sake of social contacts, Mr Rzecki.’
‘I congratulate you.’
‘Well, well …’ Szlangbaum added. ‘Maruszewicz also told me it’s going about town — that Staś has started keeping that … that Stawska. Is it true, Mr Rzecki?