The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [94]
She was already over thirty when she married an elderly tutor, Meliton, solely in order to effect the moral elevation of a man who had taken somewhat to drink. After marriage, the bridegroom drank more than before, and sometimes beat his wife, as she elevated him morally, with a thick stick. When he died in the street one day, Mrs Meliton had him taken off to the cemetery, and once she was sure he was well and truly buried, got herself a dog: for it was a truth universally acknowledged that a dog is the most affectionate of all creatures. And so it was, until it went mad and bit a servant girl, which brought a serious illness upon Mrs Meliton herself. She stayed in the hospital six months, in a private room, alone and forgotten by her pupils, their families and the count she had bestowed her heart upon. It gave her time to reflect. And when she emerged as a thin, elderly woman with grey and thinning hair, people began to declare that illness had changed her beyond recognition.
‘I have learned sense,’ Mrs Meliton retorted.
She was no longer a governess, but recommended them; she did not think of marriage, only acted as go-between for young couples; she gave her heart to no one, only facilitated lovers’ meetings in her own house. And as everyone had to pay her for everything, she acquired a little money and lived on it.
At the start of her new career she was solemn and even cynical. ‘A priest’, she would tell her confidantes, ‘gets his income from marriages—I from engagements. A count…takes money for arranging things between horses, I for facilitating acquaintances between people.’
In time, however, she became more moderate in her tone, and sometimes even moralised, for she noticed that giving voice to universally acknowledged opinions and views affected her income.
Mrs Meliton had known Wokulski for years. And since she enjoyed public events and was in the habit of watching everything, she soon noticed that Wokulski was observing Izabela much too reverently. Having made this discovery, she shrugged: what concern was it of hers if a tradesman in haberdashery was in love with Miss Łęcka? If he had taken a fancy to some wealthy tradesman’s widow, or the daughter of some manufacturer, then Mrs Meliton would have had the opportunity of acting as go-between. But as it was…
Not until Wokulski returned from Bulgaria with a fortune, of which people gave miraculous accounts, did Mrs Meliton herself approach him with regard to Izabela, and offer him her services. And a tacit agreement came into being: Wokulski paid generously, while Mrs Meliton provided him with all sorts of information concerning the Łęcki family and the fashionable persons who associated with them. It was through her that Wokulski had acquired Łęcki’s promissory notes and Izabela’s silver. On this occasion Mrs Meliton had visited Wokulski at home to congratulate him: ‘You are setting about it very sensibly,’ she said, ‘though admittedly you will get little pleasure from the dinner-service and the silver, but it was a master-stroke to buy up Łęcki’s promissory notes. The mark of a real tradesman!’
Hearing this compliment, Wokulski opened his desk, looked about inside and presently produced a bundle of promissory notes: ‘These?’ he asked, showing them to Mrs Meliton. ‘Yes—I’d like to have the money they represent,’ she replied with a sigh.
Wokulski took the packet in both hands and ripped it up. ‘The mark of a tradesman?’ he asked.
Mrs Meliton