The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [80]
I came to my senses in a cart, just as we were arriving at the Sava river. Day was breaking, a clear day was coming: a penetrating dampness rose out of the water. I rubbed my eyes, counted…There were four of us in the cart, and the fifth was the driver. But there ought to be five…no, six! I looked for Katz, but could not see him. I did not inquire about him: a sob caught my throat and I thought it would choke me. Liptak was dozing, Stein rubbing his eyes and Szapary was looking away, whistling the Rakoczy march though he kept hitting wrong notes.
Eh, Katz, what did you do? Sometimes now it seems to me you have found the Hungarian infantry and your platoon in Heaven…Sometimes I hear again the rattle of drums, the brisk rhythm of the march, and the order: ‘Present arms!’ and I think it must be you, Katz, going to change the guard before the Heavenly Throne…For He would be a poor Hungarian God if he did not recognise you…
… But I have been wandering, for goodness sake…I was thinking about Wokulski, yet here I am writing about myself and Katz. So I will now return to my subject.
A few days after Katz’s death, we reached Turkey and for two years I—alone now—wandered through Europe. I was in Italy, France, Germany, even England, and everywhere I was troubled with poverty and devoured by home-sickness. Sometimes it seemed to me I would go out of my mind listening to the flood of foreign tongues and seeing faces that were not ours, costumes not ours, earth not ours. Sometimes I’d have given my life just to see a pine wood and some straw-thatched huts. Sometimes I cried out in my sleep like a child: ‘I want to go home…’ and when I awoke, bathed in tears, I would dress and run along the streets, for it seemed to me that these streets just certainly led to the Old City or Podwale. I might even have done away with myself in despair, had it not been for frequent news of Louis Napoleon, who had become President and was thinking of becoming Emperor. It was easier for me to bear poverty and to stifle outbursts of grief when I heard of the triumphs of a man who was to execute the will and testament of Napoleon I, and bring back order into the world. Admittedly he did not succeed in doing so—but he left his son. And Rome, after all, was not built in a day…
Finally I could bear it no longer and in December 1851 I crossed Galicia and stopped at the Tomaszow frontier post. Only one thought troubled me: ‘Suppose they drive me away from here too?’ I shall never forget my joy when I heard I could travel on to Zamość. Not that I travelled much, for I walked mostly, yet what a relief it was!
I stayed over a year in Zamość. And because I was handy at chopping wood, I was in the open air every day. I wrote a letter to Mincel, and got a reply from him, even some money: but with the exception of the receipt, I do not recall details of this incident. It seems, however, that Jan Mincel did something more, though to his dying day he never referred to it, and did not want to mention it. He visited several generals who had fought in the Hungarian campaign, and told them that after all they ought to save a comrade in misfortune. And so they did: in February 1853 I was allowed to travel to Warsaw. Even my officer’s patent was returned to me: the one souvenir I brought back from Hungary, not counting two wounds in my chest and leg. The officers even gave me a dinner, at which we drank copiously to the health of the Hungarian infantry. From that time, I have always believed that the closest friendships are formed on the battlefield.
Hardly had I left my temporary abode in Zamość, as penniless as a Turkish beggar, when an unknown Jew stopped me and handed me a letter with money in it. It said:
My dear Ignacy,
I am sending you herewith two hundred złoty for your journey. Come straight to my shop in the Krakowskie Przedmie