The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [419]
Wokulski sat in the armchair, deep in thought. Suzin, looking through some papers and drinking soda water and cognac in the heat, said: ‘Your old fogeys, Stanisław Piotrowicz, respectable Polish gentlemen, every one of them, Polish szlachta … but what are they compared to our own? That Jew, what do they call him, Szlajmans? … he looks as if he’s set to take over your shop. (Fend off the Jews, Stanisław Piotrowicz! But as you wish …) And that Klein, he’s a nihilist … Mraczewski’s a nihilist too, but of the type that chases the girls; Klein, on the other hand, is a thin nihilist, all gaunt, and if he gets up to something — well, God forbid! …’
He began to read through his papers again, sipped at his water and cognac and continued: ‘But I always incline towards my own people, like that Roman governor — remember? — who said, “all the same, Carthage must be destroyed!” … And I will carry on saying to you: go with me to Paris tonight. I can guarantee you fifteen thousand roubles straightaway, and if a certain proposition works out for me — maybe even fifty … Ah! Mr Wokulski, such money — what a waste … Take pity on yourself and on me and go today … Why sit here? What will you gain by it, what will you sit out? … You are not at all what you were; a brain-fever, no? … You don’t drop in on Moscow, you don’t reply to letters and you disdain such money! And now old Suzin is worse than a dog in your eyes. You’d call doctors, go to Karlsbad, ha? …’
At that moment the door opened cautiously and in came the gaunt Klein, handing Wokulski a letter in a pale blue envelope with a lithographic seal of forget-me-nots. Wokulski seized the letter quickly, paled, flushed, threw the torn envelope onto the table and began to read:
‘The garland is beautiful; I return it to you now, and thank you in Rossi’s name. You must, but absolutely must come to us tomorrow for dinner, for we need to talk about this.
Gratefully — Izabela Łęcka’
‘Will there be a reply?’ asked Klein in a low voice.
‘No.’
Klein disappeared like a theatrical ghost behind the wings, and Wokulski continued to peruse the letter, a second, third, and fourth time. Suzin pushed aside his papers and with the greatest attention began to observe him with his small eyes. Then he took the pale blue envelope into his hands, examined it, and again directed his gaze towards Wokulski, smiling slightly with a hint of mild irony.
When Wokulski put away the letter, looking around the room like a man just awakened, Suzin indicated the envelope and said: ‘Obviously a letter from a woman … the devil take these females! … No sooner enters a room, but you know that she is there … your nose tells you. An old man once told me that Adam in Eden must have eaten a forbidden fruit, because the tree on which it grew bore the scent of a woman … The devil take them! But all the same she must somehow have troubled you, Stanisław Piotrowicz …’
‘Who?’
‘The one who sent this envelope. I am surprised at how much you have changed. Finish with her quickly, or you’ll fall victim to some misfortune …’
‘If it could be finished …’ sighed Wokulski.
Suzin laughed. ‘Ah, dear fellow! What cannot be? Everything can … I was once at an opera, by some German (say what you will, but the Germans have sense!), where the devil himself found no better means for a woman than diamonds … He took her some diamonds (perhaps ten, perhaps fifteen thousand roubles worth), and all was well …’
‘What nonsense you’re talking, Suzin!’ whispered Wokulski, leaning