The Doll - Bolesaw Prus [98]
He believed it was a citizen’s duty to hold committee meetings, to encourage trade and to grieve, grieve continually over his unhappy country. Had he been asked whether he ever planted a tree to provide shade for people or the earth, or whether he ever removed a stone from a horse’s hoof, he would have been frankly astonished. For he felt, thought, yearned and grieved for millions. He had never done anything useful. He thought that continual fretting about the whole country was far more valuable than wiping the nose of a grubby child.
In June, the character of Warsaw undergoes a marked change. The hotels, hitherto empty, fill and put up their prices; advertisements appear on many houses: ‘Furnished Apartments to Let for a Few Weeks’. All droshkies are hired, all the messengers run hither and thither. Figures not to be met with at other times are now encountered in the streets, parks, theatres, restaurants, exhibitions, shops and stores selling ladies’ dresses. Among them are stout and ruddy men in blue peaked caps, in boots too wide and gloves too tight, wearing suits in styles invented by provincial tailors. They are accompanied by ladies not distinguished either for beauty or Warsaw chic, and by equally numerous crowds of clumsy children, glowing with health.
Some of these rural visitors bring wool for the market; others come for the races; yet others to see both the wool and the races; some to meet neighbours who live but a mile away; others to refresh themselves with the cloudy water and the dust of the city, and yet others wear themselves out by travelling several days without knowing why.
The Prince took advantage of these gatherings to bring together Wokulski and some landowners.
The Prince occupied a huge apartment on the second floor of his own palace. That part which consisted of the master’s study, library and smoking room was used for meetings of gentlemen, at which the Prince would introduce his own or other people’s plans concerned with matters of public interest. This happened several times a year. The previous spring session had been devoted to the question of paddle-boats on the Vistula river, at which three sides had made themselves very clear. The first, consisting of the Prince and his personal friends, absolutely demanded the introduction of paddle-boats, although the second, the bourgeois—while admitting the plausibility of the plan, considered it premature and did not want to spend money on it. The third side consisted only of two men—a certain technician who declared that paddle-boats could not navigate on the Vistula, and a certain deaf magnate, who always replied to any appeal addressed to his pocket: ‘A little louder, pray, I cannot hear a word…’
The Prince and Wokulski arrived at one o’clock, and a quarter of an hour later other members of the committee began gathering. The Prince greeted everyone with agreeable familiarity, introduced Wokulski, then checked off the arrival’s name on his list of members with a very long and very red pencil.
One of the first guests was Mr Łęcki; he drew Wokulski aside, and once again asked him about the aim and significance of the partnership, to which he already belonged heart and soul, though he could never remember quite what it