The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [62]
In the street he caught up with her, and asked: ‘Where are you going?’
There were traces of tears on her face. She raised her apathetic gaze to Wokulski, and replied: ‘Your way, if you like.’
‘So? Come then.’
It was not yet five o’clock, broad daylight: some passers-by looked around after them. ‘I must be mad to do anything like this,’ Wokulski thought, going in the direction of the store. ‘Never mind the scandal, but what sort of ideas have I got into my head? Evangelism? It’s the height of absurdity. However, I don’t care. I am only carrying out the will of another…’
He turned into the gate of the block in which his shop was, and went into Rzecki’s room, the girl following. Ignacy was in and, seeing the extraordinary pair, raised his hands in amazement.
‘Can you leave us alone for a few minutes?’ Wokulski asked him. Ignacy said not a word. He took the key from the back door and left the room.
‘Both of you?’ the girl murmured, taking out her hat-pin.
‘One moment,’ Wokulski interrupted. ‘You were in church just now, miss, weren’t you?’
‘You saw me?’
‘You were praying and crying. May I ask why?’
Surprised, the girl shrugged as she answered, ‘Are you a priest, then, to ask me that?’ And looking more attentively at Wokulski, added: ‘Ah—all this fuss! It’s silly.’
She moved as if to go, but Wokulski stopped her: ‘Wait. Someone would like to help you, so don’t be in a hurry and just answer me openly.’
Again she gazed at him. Suddenly her eyes lit up and a flush came into her face. ‘I know!’ she cried, ‘you must be from that old gent! He promised to look after me, several times. Is he very rich? Of course he is, very… He rides in his own carriage and sits in the front row at the theatre.’
‘Listen,’ Wokulski interrupted, ‘and answer me; why were you crying in the church?’
‘Well, you see…’ the girl began, and told him such a bold tale of some squabble with her landlady that Wokulski turned pale as he listened: ‘The animal…’ he whispered.
‘I went to have a look at those graves,’ the girl went on, ‘I thought it might keep my mind off things. But not likely—when I remembered the old hag I had to cry out of sheer rage. And I asked the Lord God to afflict the old hag with sickness, or to help me get away from her. And God must have heard me, if that gent wants to look after me…’
Wokulski sat motionless. Finally he asked: ‘How old are you?’
‘I usually say I’m sixteen, but I’m nineteen really.’
‘Do you want to get away from it?’
‘Oh, to Hell even. They’ve treated me so hatefully…but…’
‘Well?’
‘Nothing will come of it. If I leave today, then they’ll take me back after the holidays is over and treat me like they did after New Year, when I was sick for a week…’
‘They won’t…’
‘How so? I’m in debt…’
‘Much?’
‘Hm…about fifty roubles. I don’t know how it came about, but they make me pay double for everything. There it is though…It’s always so with the likes of us. And when they hear that the old gent has money, then they’ll say I stole from them and will slander me as they choose.’
Wokulski felt his boldness ebbing away. ‘Tell me, do you want to get work?’
‘Doing what?’
‘You might learn to sew.’
‘That’s no use. I worked in a laundry once. But no one can manage on eight roubles a month. Besides, I’m not that worthless yet, so I can do without sewing for anyone.’
Wokulski looked up: ‘Do you want to leave that place?’
‘Yes, I do!’
‘Then make up your mind. Either you go to work, because no one can expect to live for nothing in the world…’
‘That isn’t true,’ she interrupted. ‘That old gent don’t work, but he has money. Sometimes he told me I wouldn’t have to worry my head no more…’
‘You won’t go to that man, but to the Magdalenes instead. Or—back to where you came from.’
‘The nuns won’t take me. I’d have to pay my debts first, and have a recommendation.’
‘If you go there, everything will