The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [36]
‘You, papa?’
‘Yes. They thought I would beg them for help. Joanna would be glad to make me her plenipotentiary. But I declined a pension with thanks, and have drawn closer to the bourgeoisie. I have gained their respect, and this is beginning to alarm our little world. They expected me to go under, but now they see I may go forward to the top.’
‘You, papa?’
‘Yes, I. Hitherto I said nothing, for I lacked suitable partners. But today I met a man who understands my ideas, and I shall begin to act.’
‘Who can he be?’ Izabela looked at her father in surprise.
‘A certain Wokulski, a tradesman, a man of iron. With his help I plan to organize our bourgeoisie and form a company for trading with the East. In this way I will support our industry …’
‘You, papa?’
‘And then we shall see who will get to the top, albeit, perhaps, through elections to the city council …’
Izabela listened to this with wide-open eyes.
‘Is not this man of whom you speak, papa,’ she whispered, ‘is he not a speculator, an adventurer?’
‘So you do not know him?’ Tomasz inquired. ‘He is one of our tradesmen.’
‘Yes, I know his shop, it is very elegant,’ said Izabela, thoughtfully. ‘There’s an old clerk who looks eccentric but is really very civil … Ah, I believe I met the proprietor too. He looks like a boor …’
‘Wokulski a boor?’ asked Tomasz in surprise. ‘I agree he is somewhat stiff in his manners, but he is most civil.’
Izabela shook her head.
‘He’s a disagreeable man,’ she replied animatedly. ‘Now I remember him. When I was in his shop on Tuesday I asked him the price of a fan. You should have seen how he looked at me! He didn’t answer, but beckoned with that huge red hand of his to a clerk (quite an elegant young man), and muttered in a voice in which I could hear his anger: “Mr Morawski … or Mraczewski” (I don’t recall) “this lady wants to know the price of this fan.” Oh, you have picked on a very disappointing partner, papa,’ Izabela smiled.
‘He’s a man of extraordinary energy, a man of iron,’ replied Tomasz. ‘Such men behave like that. You will make their acquaintance, for I plan to hold a few evening parties here, at home. They’re all originals, but he is more so than the rest.’
‘You intend to receive these men, papa?’
‘I must have talks with some of them. And as for our own people,’ he added, looking his daughter in the eye, ‘I promise you that when they learn who has been here, not one of them will be absent from my drawing-room.’
At this moment Flora entered to announce dinner. Tomasz gave his hand to his daughter and the three went into the dining-room; the tureen and Mikołaj were already there, the latter in a frock coat and large white tie.
‘I can’t help smiling at Bela,’ said Tomasz to Flora, who was serving soup from the tureen, ‘just think, Flora — Wokulski makes the impression of a boor on her! Do you know him?’
‘Everyone knows Wokulski nowadays,’ Flora replied, handing Mikołaj a plate for his master. ‘He is not elegant, I agree — but he’s a striking man.’
‘Like a tree-trunk with red hands,’ Izabela interposed with a smile.
‘He reminds me of Trosti, that Colonel of the Rifles, in Paris,’ said Tomasz.
‘And he makes me think of the statue of the victorious gladiator,’ said Flora in a melodious tone. ‘Do you remember, Bela—the one with the uplifted sword that we saw in Florence. A stern face, even fierce — but handsome.’
‘And his red hands?’ Izabela asked.
‘He got them frozen in Siberia,’ Flora said significantly.
‘Repenting the enthusiasm of his youth,’ said Tomasz. ‘We can forgive him that.’
‘So he’s a hero too?’
‘And a millionaire,’ Flora added.
‘That too? I am beginning to think, papa, that you have chosen well in taking him as a partner. And yet …’
‘And yet?’ her father repeated.
‘What is the world going to say to the combination?’
‘He who has power in his hands has the world at his feet.’
Mikołaj had just