The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [341]
‘And so?’ asked Wokulski.
‘Well, now I’ll marry after the holiday,’ Węgiełek replied. ‘After all, she can’t suffer for other people’s sins. It wasn’t her wish.’
‘Do you have any other matters to discuss?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then farewell, and call on me before your wedding. She will get five hundred roubles dowry, and whatever is necessary for linen and the household.’
Węgiełek left him, very moved.
‘That is the logic of simple hearts,’ Wokulski thought, ‘contempt for crime, and pity for misfortune.’
The simple citizen became, in his eyes, an emissary of eternal justice, which brought tranquillity and forgiveness to a fallen woman.
At the end of March, a great party was given at the Rzezuchowskis’ in honour of Molinari. Wokulski received an invitation addressed by the fair hand of Miss Rzezuchowska. He arrived quite late, just as the maestro had let himself be persuaded to make the audience happy by playing one of his own compositions. One of the local musicians sat down to accompany him at the piano; another brought the maestro his violin; a third turned over the accompanist’s music; a fourth took his place behind the maestro with the intention of emphasising by his expressions and gesticulations the most beautiful or hardest passages. Someone asked those present for silence: the ladies sat down in a semi-circle; the men gathered behind their chairs. The performance began.
Wokulski looked at the violinist and was first struck by certain likenesses between him and Starski. Molinari had the same small moustache, the same little beard and the same expression of boredom which characterises men who are lucky with women. He played well, and looked respectable, but one could see that he had accepted the role of a benevolent demi-god to his followers. From time to time, the violin sounded louder, the man behind the maestro took on an expression of admiration, and a quiet, brief rustle went through the audience. Amidst the fashionably dressed men, and the listening, musing, dreamy or dozing ladies, Wokulski caught sight of women’s faces marked with an unusual expression. There were heads thrown passionately back, flushed cheeks, burning eyes, parted and trembling lips, as though they were under a drug.
‘Horrible,’ thought Wokulski, ‘what sick individuals are these, harnessed to the triumphal car of this man!’
Then he looked to one side, and was struck cold. He saw Miss Łęcka, still more excited and impassioned than the others. He could not believe his own eyes.
The maestro played some fifteen minutes, but Wokulski no longer heard a single note. Finally, a long burst of applause awoke him. Then again he forgot where he was, but for all that he very distinctly saw Molinari whisper into Mr Rzezuchowski’s ear, Mr Rzezuchowski take him by the arm—and introduce him to Izabela.
She greeted him with a blush and look of indescribable admiration. And because all were now summoned to supper, the maestro gave her his arm and took her into the supper room. They passed right by him, Molinari even elbowed him, but they were so occupied with each other that Izabela didn’t notice Wokulski. Then they sat down at a table for four—Mr Szatalski with Miss Rzezuchowska, Molinari with Izabela—and it was evident they were very pleased to be together.
Again it seemed to Wokulski that a veil had fallen from before his eyes, and he could see beyond it an entirely different world, and another Izabela. But at the same moment, he felt such chaos in his mind, pain in his chest, madness in his nerves, that he fled to the entrance hall and then into the street, afraid he was going to lose his mind. ‘Merciful God!’ he whispered, ‘take this curse off me!’
A few paces from Molinari, Mrs Wąsowska was sitting at a microscopic table with Ochocki. ‘My cousin begins to interest me more and more,’ said Ochocki, looking at Izabela. ‘Do you see her?’
‘I’ve been watching for an hour,’ Mrs Wąsowska replied, ‘but it strikes me Wokulski has noticed something too, for he was very changed. I am sorry for him.’
‘Oh, you can set your mind at rest regarding