The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [393]
‘For love.’
‘A fine thing! If Mr Starski wins love with his moustaches and fiery glances, why should another man have to give his name, fortune and liberty for it?’
‘I understand you less and less,’ said Mrs Wąsowska. ‘Do you admit that women are men’s equals, or not?’
‘Generally speaking they are, but not altogether. In intellect and capacity for work, an average woman is lower than a man: but in manners and feelings she should be as much above him as will compensate for these inequalities. At least, so they always said, and we believe it, and despite the many low attributes of women, we place them higher than ourselves. But if the Baroness renounced her virtue, and she did that long ago, as we all know, then one should not be surprised that she has lost her privileges too. Her husband got rid of her as he would a dishonest business partner.’
‘But the Baron is an impotent old man!’
‘Why, then, did she marry him, why did she pay any attention to his amorous paroxysms?’
‘You do not understand, then, that a woman may be forced to sell herself?’ asked Mrs Wąsowska, paling and blushing by turns.
‘Indeed I do, for I too … once sold myself, though not to acquire a fortune, but out of poverty.’
‘And what happened?’
‘In the first place, my wife did not regard me as innocent, and I didn’t promise her love, either. I made a very bad husband, though as a kept man I was the best shop clerk and her most loyal servant. I went with her to church, to concerts, theatres, I entertained her friends and in fact tripled the income of the store.’
‘Did you not have mistresses?’
‘No, madam. I felt my enslavement so bitterly that I simply dared not look at other women. So you must admit, madam, that I have the right to be a stern judge of the Baroness who, when she sold herself, knew that no one was buying … honest labour from her.’
‘Horrible,’ whispered Mrs Wąsowska, staring at the floor.
‘Yes, madam. Trade in human beings is a horrible thing, but the sale of oneself is still more horrible. But only transactions entered into in bad faith are shameful. When such a transaction is exposed, the consequences must be very disagreeable for the unmasked party.’
For a while both sat in silence. Mrs Wąsowska was vexed, Wokulski sulky.
‘No,’ she cried suddenly, ‘I must get a firm opinion from you!’
‘What on?’
‘On various questions, to which I want you to reply clearly and distinctly.’
‘Is this to be an examination?’
‘Something of the sort.’
‘Pray continue, madam.’
One might have thought she was hesitating. However, she forced herself to ask: ‘So you hold the opinion that the Baron had the right to reject and defame a woman?’
‘A woman who had deceived him? Yes, I do.’
‘What do you mean by deception?’
‘Accepting the baron’s adoration despite the faiblesse, as you call it, which she has for Mr Starski.’
Mrs Wąsowska bit her lip: ‘And how many faiblesses did the Baron have?’
‘As many as his desires and opportunities afforded, to be sure,’ Wokulski replied. ‘But the Baron didn’t pose as an innocent, he didn’t profess to be a specialist in the purity of morals, nor was he surrounded by tribute for that … Had the Baron gained someone’s heart by claiming he had never taken mistresses, when in fact he had done, he too would be a deceiver. Admittedly, no one asked him.’
Mrs Wąsowska smiled: ‘Capital, indeed! What woman is going to state or assure you she never had lovers?’
‘So you have had them?’
‘My good man!’ the widow exclaimed, rising hastily. At once she recollected herself, and said boldly: ‘I expect a certain consideration from you in your choice of arguments.’
‘Why so? After all, we both have equal rights, and I will not be in the least offended if you ask me how many mistresses I have had.’
‘I am not interested.’
She started walking about the drawing-room. Anger was seething in Wokulski, but he controlled it.
‘Yes, I admit, sir,’ she said,