The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [342]
‘There may be a scene…’
‘Not likely,’ said Ochocki. ‘People with strong feelings are only dangerous when they have no reserves left.’
‘You mean that woman…what’s her name?—Sta…Star…?’
‘God forbid, there’s nothing there, and never was. Besides, for a man in love, another woman doesn’t provide a reserve.’
‘What does?’
‘Wokulski has a powerful mind, and knows of a wonderful invention which would really turn the world upside down.’
‘Do you know of it?’
‘I know the content, I’ve seen the proof; but not the details. I swear,’ said Ochocki, growing excited, ‘that a man could sacrifice ten mistresses for such a cause.’
‘So you sacrifice me, ungrateful one?’
‘Are you my mistress? I’m not a madman, after all.’
‘But you are in love with me.’
‘As Wokulski is with Izabela? Not on your life…Although I’m prepared at any moment to…’
‘You’re badly bred, anyway. But—so much the better if you’re not in love with me.’
‘I know why. You are sighing for Wokulski.’
A strong blush overcame Mrs Wąsowska; she grew so confused that she dropped her fan. Ochocki retrieved it. ‘I don’t want to play a game with you, monster,’ she said after a moment. ‘He concerns me, inasmuch as…I’m doing all I can for him to win Bela, because…that madman loves her.’
‘I swear that of all the women I know, you are the only one worth anything! But enough of this. Ever since I found out that Wokulski loves Bela (and how he does!), my cousin has been making a strange impression on me. Earlier, I used to regard her as exceptional—today, she strikes me as ordinary; earlier, as exalted—today, shallow…But this is only at moments, and I see I may be wrong.’
Mrs Wąsowska smiled. ‘It’s said,’ she remarked, ‘that whenever a man looks at a woman, Satan puts rose-coloured spectacles on him.’
‘Sometimes he takes them off.’
‘Not without suffering for it,’ Mrs Wąsowska replied. ‘But do you know, sir,’ she added, ‘since we are almost cousins, let us be less formal with each other…’
‘Thank you, I think not.’
‘But why?’
‘I have no intention of becoming your admirer, madam.’
‘I am offering you friendship.’
‘Precisely. It is a bridge over which…’
At this moment Izabela suddenly rose from her seat and came to them: she was indignant.
‘Are you abandoning the maestro?’ Mrs Wąsowska asked her.
‘He is impertinent!’ said Izabela, in a tone which contained anger.
‘I’m very glad, cousin, that you’ve found out that clown so quickly,’ said Ochocki. ‘Won’t you sit down?’
But Izabela gave him a thunderous look, began talking to Malborg, who had just come up, then went out of the room. On the threshold she glanced over her fan at Molinari, who was talking very gaily to Miss Rzezuchowska.
‘It seems to me, Mr Ochocki,’ said Mrs Wąsowska, ‘that you will have to become another Copernicus before you learn caution. How could you call that man a clown in Izabela’s presence?’
‘But she called him impertinent!’
‘Nevertheless she is interested in him.’
‘Well, please don’t joke with me. If she isn’t interested in a man who adores her…’
‘Then she will interest herself all the more in a man who despises her.’
‘A taste for strong condiments is a sign of weak health,’ Ochocki commented.
‘Which of us women here is healthy!’ said Mrs Wąsowska, embracing the company with a contemptuous glance. ‘Give me your hand, and let’s go into the drawing-room.’
In the hall they met the Prince, who greeted Mrs Wąsowska with great satisfaction.
‘Well, Your Highness, and Molinari?’ she asked.
‘Beautiful tone…very…’
‘And shall we receive him at home?’
‘Oh yes—in the vestibule.’
Within a few minutes the Prince’s witticism had gone all around the rooms. Mrs Rzezuchowska had to leave her guests because of a sudden migraine.
When Mrs Wąsowska, talking with friends on the way, went into the drawing-room with Ochocki, she saw Izabela already sitting there with Molinari. ‘Which of us was right?’ she asked, nudging Ochocki with her fan: ‘Poor Wokulski!’
‘I assure you he is less so than Izabela.’
‘Why?’