The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [357]
‘No gentleman would let a forger go, if he hadn’t had some dealings with him behind the scenes,’ Starski replied with a smile.
‘How often has the Baron forgiven him?’
‘Just so—the Baron has all sorts of little sins which Mr M. knows of. You don’t protect your protégé very well, ma cousine,’ said Starski, mockingly.
Wokulski leaned hard against the wall so as not to jump up and strike Starski. But he controlled himself. ‘Everyone has the right to judge others,’ he thought. ‘Besides, let’s see what comes next.’
For some moments he heard only the rattle of the wheels, and noticed that the carriage was swaying. ‘I never felt a carriage sway so before,’ he told himself.
‘And that medallion?’ Starski mocked, ‘was that your only premarital gift? Not a very generous fiancé; he loves you like a troubadour, but…’
‘I assure you,’ Izabela interrupted, ‘that he’d give me his entire fortune.’
‘Take it, cousin, and lend me a hundred thousand…By the way, have you found this miraculous piece of tin?’
‘No, I haven’t, and I’m so vexed. God, if he were to find out…’
‘That you lost his metal—or that we looked for it together?’ Starski whispered, pressing close to her arm.
A mist veiled Wokulski’s eyes. ‘Am I losing consciousness?’ he thought, grasping the strap by the window. It seemed to him the carriage was beginning to rock and that it would be derailed at any moment.
‘You’re insolent, you know!’ said Izabela in a stifled voice.
‘That is precisely my strength,’ Starski replied.
‘For heaven’s sake…He may notice…I hate you!’
‘You’ll be crazy about me, for no one could hate me. Women love devils.’
Izabela moved closer to her father. Wokulski stared into the opposite window, and listened.
‘I must tell you,’ she said, vexed, ‘that you won’t cross the threshold of our house. If you dare…I’ll tell him everything.’
Starski laughed: ‘I won’t come, cousin, until you send for me, but I am sure that will happen very soon. In a week, this adoring husband will bore you and you’ll want more amusing society. You’ll remember your scoundrel of a cousin, who has never been serious in his life, always witty, always ready to adore you, never jealous, who can yield place to others, respect your whims…’
‘Taking your reward in other ways,’ Izabela interrupted.
‘Just so! If I didn’t you’d have no cause to forgive me, and could fear my reproaches.’
Without changing position he encircled her with his right arm, and pressed her hand with his left, under her cloak. ‘Yes, little cousin,’ he said, ‘a woman like you isn’t going to be satisfied with the daily bread of respect, or the cake of adoration…You need champagne, someone must bewilder you with cynicism…’
‘It’s easy to be a cynic.’
‘But not everyone dares to be. Ask this gentleman whether it ever occurred to him that his tender prayers are worth less than my sacrilege?’
Wokulski was no longer listening to the conversation; his attention had been absorbed by another fact—the change which had suddenly started to occur within himself. If yesterday he had been told that he would be the speechless auditor of any such conversation, he wouldn’t have believed it; he’d have thought that each word would kill him or drive him to frenzy. But now that it had happened, he was forced to admit that there’s something worse than betrayal, disillusion and humiliation.
But—what was it? Yes: travelling by train! How the carriage was shuddering…how it was rushing along! The shuddering of the train made itself felt in his legs, lungs, heart, brain; everything inside him was shuddering, every bone, every fibre of nerve…
And this rushing onwards through limitless fields, under the enormous vault of sky! And he had to travel on, God only knows how much further…Five, perhaps even ten minutes…
What was Starski, or even Izabela? One was as bad as the other…But this railroad, this railroad…and this shuddering. He felt he would burst into tears, begin screaming, smash the window and jump out…Or worse: he felt he was going to implore