The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [338]
When news of the intended suicide spread, Mr Szatalski became the hero of parties, and Izabela acquired the nickname ‘the cruel’. When the gentlemen disappeared to play whist, ladies of a certain age found their greatest pleasure in bringing together Izabela and Szatalski by means of ingenious manoeuvres. They gazed with indescribable sympathy through their lorgnettes at the sufferings of the young man; it was almost as good as a concert. They grew angry with Izabela only when they saw that she appreciated her own privileged situation and seemed to say with each movement and glance: ‘Look, he loves me — he’s unhappy on my account.’
Wokulski sometimes found himself at these gatherings, he saw the ladies’ lorgnettes directed at Szatalski and Izabela, he even heard the remarks which buzzed around his ears like wasps, but he understood nothing at all. No one bothered about him, since they knew he was a serious suitor.
‘Unhappy love causes a great deal more interest,’ Miss Rzezuchowska once whispered to Mrs Wąsowska.
‘Who knows where unhappy even tragic love really is, here?’ Mrs Wąsowska replied, looking at Wokulski.
Fifteen minutes later, Miss Rzezuchowska asked to have Wokulski introduced to her, and during the next quarter of an hour informed him (lowering her eyes as she did so) that in her opinion, the most beautiful role a woman can play is to cherish wounded hearts that are suffering in silence.
One day at the end of March, Wokulski called on Izabela, and found her in high spirits: ‘Excellent news,’ she exclaimed, greeting him with unusual cordiality, ‘did you know that the famous violinist Molinari is here?’
‘Molinari?’ Wokulski echoed, ‘ah yes, I saw him in Paris.’
‘You speak so coldly of him?’ Izabela was surprised, ‘can it be you didn’t care for his playing?’
‘I confess, madam, that I didn’t even notice how he played.’
‘That is impossible … You can’t have heard him. Mr Szatalski says (though he always exaggerates) that after hearing Molinari, he could die without regrets. Mrs Wywrotnicka is delighted with him, and Mrs Rzezuchowska plans on giving a party for him.’
‘He strikes me as a rather second-rate violinist.’
‘Come, sir … Mr Rydzewski and Mr Pieczarkowski were able to see his album, composed entirely of press-cuttings. Mr Pieczarkowski says that Molinari’s admirers presented it to him. All the European critics call him a genius.’
Wokulski shook his head: ‘I saw him in a concert-hall where the most expensive seat cost two francs.’
‘That’s impossible, it can’t have been him … He got a decoration from the Holy Father, another from the Shah of Iran, he has a title … Second-rate violinists do not acquire such honours.’
Wokulski gazed in amazement at Izabela’s flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. These were such powerful arguments that he doubted his own memory, and replied: ‘Possibly … possibly.’
But his indifference towards art affected Izabela in a disagreeable manner. She turned sulky and talked rather coolly to Wokulski for the rest of the visit.
‘I’m a fool,’ he thought on leaving. ‘I always have to come out with something that displeases her. If she’s so fond of music, she may regard my opinion of Molinari as sacrilege.’ And all next day he bitterly reproached himself for his ignorance of art, his naiveté, lack of delicate feeling and even for lack of respect to Izabela. ‘It’s certain,’ he told himself, ‘that this violinist who has made such an impression on her is better than I care to own. A person must be stuck up to utter such decisive judgements as I did, the more so as I can’t have known anything of his playing.’
Shame overwhelmed him. On the third day he received a brief note from Izabela. ‘Sir,’ she wrote, ‘you must arrange for me to meet Molinari, it is essential, essential … I have promised my aunt to persuade him to play at her house for the Orphanage benefit; you will understand how much this means to me.’
At first, it seemed to Wokulski that to approach the violinist of genius would be one of the most difficult tasks he had ever been commanded