The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [58]
‘Now I understand,’ thought Wokulski, ‘why visiting a church intensifies faith. Here everything is arranged so as to remind us of eternity.’
His gaze shifted from these shadows absorbed in prayer towards the light. In various parts of the church he saw tables spread with carpets, on them trays full of bank-notes, silver and gold, and near them were ladies seated in comfortable chairs, dressed in furs, feather and velvet, surrounded by cheerful young people. The most pious were accosting passers-by, all were talking and enjoying themselves as if they were at a ball. It seemed to Wokulski that at this moment he could distinguish three worlds. One (which had long since departed from the earth) had prayed and erected powerful buildings to the glory of God. The second, poor and humble, knew how to pray but only erected cottages—while, the third built palaces for itself, but had forgotten how to pray and made God’s House into a place for fashionable gatherings, like carefree birds that build their nests and sing on the graves of dead heroes.
‘And I? What am I—a stranger to them all?’
‘Perhaps you are an eye of the iron sieve into which I cast all these people to divide the chaff from the grain,’ replied a voice.
Wokulski looked round. ‘The illusion of a disordered imagination.’ Simultaneously he caught sight at a fourth table in the depths of the church of Countess Karolowa and Izabela. Both were seated by a tray with money, and were holding books, probably prayer-books. A servant in black livery was standing behind the Countess’s chair.
Wokulski went towards them, past the kneeling people, avoiding other tables where they tapped insistently for his attention. He approached the tray and bowed to the Countess, then put down his roll of half-imperials.
‘My God…’ he thought, ‘how stupid I must look with this money.’
The Countess put her book aside. ‘How are you, Mr Wokulski?’ she said. ‘You know, I thought you were not coming, and I may tell you that I was rather disappointed.’
‘I told you he would come, aunt, and with that sack of gold into the bargain,’ Izabela interposed in English.
The Countess flushed and perspired. Her niece’s words alarmed her, for she supposed that Wokulski understood English. ‘Please, Mr Wokulski,’ she said hastily, ‘sit down here for a while, our companion has deserted us. Allow me to put your imperials on top, to shame those gentlemen who prefer squandering their money on champagne…’
‘Don’t be so anxious, aunt,’ Izabela interrupted, again in English, ‘he certainly doesn’t understand.’
This time Wokulski blushed.
‘Please, Bela,’ said the Countess in a ceremonial tone, ‘Mr Wokulski…has given so generously to our cause…’
‘So I’ve heard,’ Izabela replied in Polish, lowering her eyelashes in token of greeting.
‘Your ladyship’, said Wokulski rather facetiously, ‘seeks to deprive me of my deserts in the next world by praising deeds I may well have done with a view to profit in this…’
‘I guessed as much,’ whispered Izabela in English.
The Countess nearly swooned, feeling certain that Wokulski must have guessed the meaning of her niece’s words even if he knew no languages at all. ‘You may, Mr Wokulski,’ she said in feverish haste, ‘you may easily obtain your deserts in the next world if only by…forgiving insults…’
‘I always do,’ he replied, somewhat surprised.
‘You should not say “always”,’ the Countess continued. ‘I’m an old woman, and your friend, Mr Wokulski,’ she added with emphasis, ‘so you must make certain allowances