The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [337]
‘Here too, you were of a different mind six months ago,’ Rzecki interposed.
‘Not six months but ten years ago. Bah! I took poison after my fiancée died, but that is just another argument against your system. Today it almost sickens me to think I might have died, God knows why, or have married a woman who would have squandered my money.’
Rzecki rose: ‘So now your ideal is Szlangbaum?’ he said.
‘He’s not my ideal, but at least he’s an active man.’
‘Who has acquired the store accounts …’
‘He has the right to them. After all, he will be its owner in July.’
‘Meanwhile he’s demoralising his colleagues, his future clerks.’
‘He’ll dismiss them.’
‘And this “ideal” of yours, when he asked Staś for a position, was he thinking even then of taking over our store?’
‘He’s not taking it over, he’s buying it!’ the doctor cried. ‘Perhaps you’d sooner the store went to rack and ruin without finding a buyer? … And which of you is the smarter? — you, who after decades of work, have nothing — or he, who in the course of a year will have conquered such a fortress without, mind you, doing anyone an injustice, and paying Wokulski cash into the bargain?’
‘Maybe you’re right, though it doesn’t look that way to me,’ muttered Rzecki, glancing at him.
‘It doesn’t look that way to you, because you are one of those people who must grow over with moss, like stones, without moving from where they are. For you the Szlangbaums must always be clerks, the Wokulskis masters, and the Łęckis “Your Excellency”. No, sir! Society is like boiling water; what was below yesterday will come to the top tomorrow.’
‘And fall back into the dregs again the next day,’ Rzecki concluded. ‘Goodnight to you, doctor.’
Szuman shook him by the hand: ‘Are you angry?’
‘No. But I don’t believe in worshipping money.’
‘It’s a transitory phase.’
‘Who would swear to you that the dreams of Wokulskis or Ochockis aren’t transitory? A flying machine seems absurd, but only on the surface; I know something of it’s worth, as Staś has been explaining it to me for years. But if, for instance, a man like Ochocki were to succeed in making one, then just think which would be more valuable to the world: Szlangbaum’s ingenuity, or the dreams of Wokulski and Ochocki?’
‘Fiddle-de-dee,’ the doctor interrupted, ‘I shan’t be here to see it.’
‘If you were, you would surely have to change your plans a third time.’
The doctor grew embarrassed: ‘Well, that’s as may be,’ he said. ‘What business did you have with me?’
‘It concerned poor Mrs Stawska … She has really fallen in love with Wokulski.’
‘Ach … You might at least not bother me with such matters,’ the doctor rebuffed him. ‘When some are growing in wealth and power and others going bankrupt, he pesters me with the romance of some Mrs Stawska or other. You shouldn’t have played at Cupid.’
Rzecki left the doctor, so troubled that he did not even notice the brutality of the latter’s final words. Not until he reached the street did he realise it, and he felt cross with Szuman. ‘There’s Jewish friendship for you,’ he muttered.
Lent was not as boring as society had feared. First, Providence sent a flood of the Vistula, which gave rise to a public concert and several private musical evenings with recitations. Then a certain gentleman from Cracow, the hope of the aristocratic party, appeared in a series of lectures at the Agricultural Exhibition, attended by the best company. Next, Szegedyn was flooded, which again brought forth small collections but enormous traffic in the drawing-rooms. Amateur theatricals were held in the house of a countess, at which two plays were performed in French, and one in English.
Izabela took an active part in all these philanthropic activities. She attended concerts, busied herself with presenting a bouquet to the scholar from Cracow, appeared in tableaux vivants as the Angel of Mercy, and played in Musset’s On ne badine pas avec l’amour. Messrs Niwiński, Malborg, Rydzewski and Pieczarkowski quite showered her with bouquets, while Mr Szatalski confided to several ladies that he would very likely have to