The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [391]
‘But what if, as is very probable, not I, but some other some other discovers that metal? …’ he asked himself.
‘And what of it?’ he replied. ‘At worst, I would belong to the few who pushed the discovery forward. Such a cause is indeed worth the sacrifice of a useless fortune and an aimless life. Is it then better to run to waste here within these four walls or stupefy oneself at cards than to reach there for unprecedented glory? …’
Gradually, an intention began to take shape with increasing clarity in Wokulski’s soul, but the more precisely he grasped it, and the more merit he discovered in it, the more he felt that he lacked the energy, even the incentive, to execute it.
His will was totally paralysed: only a powerful shock could awaken it. But no shock came, and the daily course of events plunged Wokulski into deeper and deeper apathy.
‘I am not dying, but rotting away,’ he told himself.
Rzecki, who visited him with increasing infrequency, watched in alarm. ‘You are doing very badly, Staś,’ he would exclaim sometimes, ‘Badly, badly, badly! Better not live at all, than like this …’
One day the servant handed Wokulski a letter addressed in a woman’s hand. He opened it and read: ‘I must see you, and shall expect you today at three — Wąsowska.’
‘What can she want from me?’ he asked in amazement.
But he left home before three. Punctually Wokulski found himself in Mrs Wąsowska’s hall. Without even asking his name, the footman opened the door to the drawing-room, where the pretty widow was walking about rapidly. She wore a dark gown that set off her statuesque figure very well: as always, her auburn hair was knotted in a huge bun, but instead of hairpins, a small dagger with a golden handle was stuck in it.
On seeing her, Wokulski was filled with curious feelings of joy and tenderness: he hastened to her, and feverishly kissed her hand.
‘I ought not to speak to you,’ said Mrs Wąsowska, pulling her hand away.
‘In that case, why have you summoned me?’ he replied in surprise. It seemed to him that cold water had been poured over him.
‘Pray be seated.’
Wokulski sat down in silence. Mrs Wąsowska was still walking to and fro. ‘You are putting up a fine show, no doubt about it,’ she began indignantly, after a moment. ‘You have exposed a woman in society to gossip, her father to illness, the whole family to disagreeable incidents … You shut yourself up at home for months, you disappoint a dozen or more people who trusted you implicitly, and now even the worthy old Prince calls your eccentricities “a contribution to the activities of women”. I congratulate you … If some student or other were to behave thus …’
Suddenly she stopped. Wokulski was terribly changed.
‘Oh, what next, surely you aren’t going to faint?’ she said in alarm. ‘I will give you some water, or wine …’
‘No, thank you,’ he replied. His face rapidly regained its natural colour and tranquil expression. ‘You see, I really am not well.’
Mrs Wąsowska began regarding him attentively. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you have grown somewhat thinner, but with that beard, you are not bad-looking at all … You should not shave it off. You look interesting.’
Wokulski blushed like a little boy. He listened to Mrs Wąsowska, and was surprised to find that he was shy of her, almost ashamed. ‘What’s happening to me?’ he wondered.
‘In any case, you ought to go to the country at once,’ she continued. ‘Who ever heard of anyone staying in town at the beginning of July? Basta, my good man! I’ll take you to my place the day after tomorrow, otherwise the spirit of the late Duchess would not let me rest. From today, you are to come to lunch and dinner with me: after lunch we will take a drive, and the day after tomorrow — Farewell, Warsaw! Enough of this …’
Wokulski was so taken aback that he was unable to reply. He did not know what to do with his hands, and felt as though his face were on fire.
She rang. The footman came in. ‘Bring some wine,’ said Mrs Wąsowska, ‘you know,