The Doll (20 page)

Wokulski pulled himself together: ‘Mr Łęcki,' he said, coldly, ‘in my tent near Plevna even greater gentlefolk used to visit me. And they were so agreeable towards me that I do not easily become excited at the sight of such gentry as…one meets in Warsaw.'

‘Upon my word…' Mr Łęcki murmured and bowed.

Wokulski was taken aback: ‘There's a flunkey for you,' went through his head, ‘And I…I was apprehensive of such people as this?'

Mr Łęcki took him by the arm and conducted him in a very ceremonial manner into the first drawing-room, where there were only men.

‘You see, my dear sir—the Count…' Tomasz began.

‘I know him,' Wokulski said, adding inwardly, ‘He owes me some three hundred roubles…'

‘The banker…' Tomasz then explained. But before he could utter the banker's name, the banker himself came up, saluted Wokulski and said: ‘Upon my word, there's a great deal of excitement in Paris about those boulevards. Have you replied?'

‘I wanted to speak to you first,' Wokulski replied.

‘Let us meet somewhere, then. When are you at home?'

‘I have no fixed time, and would prefer to come to your house.'

‘Pray call on me next Wednesday, then, for lunch, and we will finish with the matter once and for all.'

They said goodbye. Tomasz pressed Wokulski's arm more warmly: ‘The general…' he began. Seeing Wokulski, the general shook him by the hand and they greeted one another like old acquaintances.

Tomasz became increasingly affectionate toward Wokulski and began to be surprised, seeing that this tradesman knew so many of the most eminent persons in town, and not only those distinguished by unearned titles and fortunes.

When they went into the second drawing-room, where there were a number of ladies, the Countess Karolowa came over to them. Józef, the butler, was hovering in the background.

‘They have set up a sentry,' Wokulski thought, ‘so as not to compromise the
nouveau riche
tradesman. Considerate of them, but…'

‘I am so pleased, Mr Wokulski,' said the Countess, taking him over from Tomasz, ‘so pleased that you have done as I asked. There is someone here who wishes to make your acquaintance.'

The appearance of Wokulski had caused something of a sensation in the first drawing-room: ‘General,' said the Count, ‘Countess Karolowa is beginning to introduce us to tradespeople. This Wokulski…'

‘Is as much a tradesman as you or I,' the general replied.

‘Prince,' said another Count, ‘how on earth did that Wokulski get invited here?'

‘Our hostess invited him,' the Prince retorted.

‘I have no prejudice against tradespeople,' the Count went on, ‘but Wokulski has been involved in military supplies and made a fortune…'

‘Yes, yes…' the Prince interrupted. ‘That sort of fortune is usually suspect, but I can vouch for Wokulski. The Countess spoke to me of him, and I have asked officers who served in the war, including my own nephew. The general opinion is that the supplies Wokulski was concerned with were honest. Even the men, when they got good bread, used to say it must have been baked with Wokulski's flour. Furthermore,' the Prince went on, ‘Wokulski came to the attention of some very highly placed personages indeed and had some very attractive propositions made to him. In January this year he was offered two hundred thousand roubles merely for his signature in a certain enterprise, but he refused.'

The Count laughed and said: ‘No doubt he might have held out for more than two hundred thousand…'

‘Yes, but then he would not have been here today,' the Prince replied and moved away with a nod.

‘Old fool,' the Count whispered, looking after the Prince contemptuously.

In the third drawing-room, which Wokulski now entered with the Countess, there was a buffet and many small and large tables, at which guests sat in couples, threes or even foursomes. Servants were handing round food and wine, and Izabela was directing them, evidently taking the place of the hostess. She wore a pale blue gown, and had large pearls at her throat. She was so beautiful, her gestures so queenly, that Wokulski turned to stone as he looked at her. ‘How can I even so much as dream of her?' he thought in despair.

At the same moment, he caught sight in a window-seat of the young man who had been in church the previous day, and who was now sitting alone at a small table, without taking his eyes off Izabela. ‘Of course, he loves her…' Wokulski thought, and he felt as though the chill of the grave had enveloped him. ‘I am lost…' he added, to himself.

All this lasted only a few seconds.

‘Do you see that old lady between the bishop and the general?' the Countess asked Wokulski. ‘That is Duchess Zaslawska, my best friend, who insists on meeting you. She is very interested in you,' the Countess went on, smiling, ‘she has no children, and several pretty grand-daughters. Make a good choice! Meanwhile, keep your eye on her, and when those gentlemen go away I will introduce you. Ah, Prince!'

‘How do you do,' the Prince said to Wokulski, ‘may I, cousin?'

‘Of course,' the Countess replied. ‘Here is a vacant table for you both…Allow me to leave you for a moment.'

‘Let us sit down, Mr Wokulski,' said the Prince. ‘This is indeed convenient, as I have an important matter to discuss with you. Pray imagine that your plans have caused a tremendous upheaval among our cotton manufacturers…Isn't that the word: “cotton”?… They insist you want to kill the industry. Is the competition you are creating really so dangerous?'

‘It is true', Wokulski replied, ‘that I have three or even four million roubles credit with the Moscow manufacturers, but I do not yet know whether their products will suit our market.'

‘A huge sum of money, to be sure,' the Prince murmured. ‘Do you not see a genuine threat to our factories in it?'

‘Not in the least. I see only an insignificant decrease in their own immense profits, which are no concern of mine. My duty is to concern myself with my own profits and give my customers good value; for our goods will be cheaper.'

‘Have you reflected upon this problem as a citizen?' the Prince asked, pressing his arm. ‘As things are, we have so little to lose…'

‘It seems to me it is enough for a citizen to provide cheap products for consumers and to smash the monopoly of factory owners, who have nothing in common with us except that they exploit our customers and workers…'

‘You think so? I hadn't considered that. However, I'm not concerned with factory owners but with our country, our unhappy country…'

‘What may I offer you?' asked Izabela, suddenly approaching. The Prince and Wokulski rose.

‘How pretty you look today, cousin,' said the Prince, taking her hand. ‘I much regret that I am not my own son… Although perhaps it is just as well. For if you were to turn me down, which is very likely, I should be very unhappy… I beg your pardon!' the Prince added, ‘allow me, cousin, to introduce Mr Wokulski. An active man, an active citizen… That is recommendation enough, is it not?'

‘We have met,' Izabela whispered in response to Wokulski's bow. He looked into her eyes and saw there such horror, such wretchedness, that he was once again overcome by despair. ‘Why did I come here?' he thought. He glanced at the window and again noticed the young man, who was still sitting there alone with an untouched plate, covering his eyes with one hand. ‘Why did I come here, wretched man that I am…' thought Wokulski, feeling as if his heart were being torn out of him with pincers.

‘Would you care for some wine?' Izabela inquired, eyeing him with surprise.

‘If you like,' he replied mechanically.

‘We must become better acquainted, Mr Wokulski,' said the Prince. ‘You must join our sphere in which, believe me, there are sensible and noble hearts—but a lack of initiative.'

‘I am a
nouveau riche
, I have no title,' Wokulski replied, merely for the sake of answering.

‘On the contrary, you have one title at least—work: the second, honesty; the third—talent; the fourth—energy… We need these for the rebirth of our country, so give us them and we will take to you as to a brother…'

The Countess approached. ‘May I, Prince?' she said, ‘Mr Wokulski…' She gave him her hand and both went over to the Duchess's armchair.

‘This, Duchess, is Mr Stanislaw Wokulski,' said the Countess to an old lady in black, covered with costly lace.

‘Sit down, please,' said the Duchess, indicating the chair by her. ‘Your first name is Stanisław, then? And which branch of the Wokulskis do you belong to, pray?'

‘A branch…unknown to anyone,' he replied, ‘and least of all to you, I am sure.'

‘Didn't your father serve in the army?'

‘My uncle, but not my father.'

‘Do you not recall where he served? Wasn't his first name Stanislaw?'

‘It was. He was a lieutenant, later a captain in the Seventh Infantry regiment.'

‘The first brigade of the second division,' the Duchess interrupted. ‘You see, young man, that you are not so unknown to me. Is he still alive?'

‘He died five years ago.'

The Duchess's hands began trembling. She opened a tiny flask and inhaled it. ‘He died, you say? God rest his soul… Did he not leave behind a souvenir of any kind?'

‘A gold cross.'

‘Yes, a gold cross… Nothing more?'

‘A miniature of himself, taken in 1828, on ivory.'

The Duchess kept sniffing the tiny flask: her hands trembled more and more. ‘A miniature,' she repeated. ‘Do you happen to know who painted it? Did he not leave anything else?'

‘There was a bundle of letters and another miniature.'

‘What has become of them?' the Duchess inquired, still more agitated.

‘My uncle sealed them up some days before he died and asked that they should be put into his coffin.'

‘Ah…ah…' the old lady whispered, and burst into tears.

There was a stir in the drawing-room. Izabela anxiously hastened over, then the Countess. They took the Duchess by the hand and slowly led her into another room. All eyes were upon Wokulski. People began whispering.

Seeing that everyone was looking at him and talking about him, Wokulski grew embarrassed. In order to give the impression that this peculiar popularity did not concern him, he drank two glasses of wine in rapid succession from a table, then realised that one glass of Hungarian wine had been that of the general, and the other, of red wine, the bishop's.

‘I am doing very nicely indeed,' he said to himself. ‘They will say I offended the old lady in order to get at her neighbours' wine.'

He rose, meaning to leave, and grew hot at the thought of proceeding across two drawing-rooms in which a gauntlet of stares and whispers awaited him. But the Prince stopped him.

‘You and the Duchess were no doubt talking about the old days, and that has distressed her. Am I right? To revert to the subject we were discussing when we were interrupted. Do you think it would be a good thing to establish a Polish factory of cheap linen?'

Wokulski shook his head: ‘I doubt if it would succeed,' he replied. ‘It is difficult to conceive of large factories for people unable to make small improvements in those already in existence… In other words… I am referring to mills,' Wokulski went on, ‘in a few years we shall even be importing flour, for our millers are reluctant to replace the stones they use with steam rollers.'

‘Unheard of!… Let us sit down,' said the Prince, drawing him to a wide alcove, ‘and tell me what you have in mind.'

Meanwhile people were talking in the drawing-rooms.

‘There is something enigmatic about that man,' said a lady in French, wearing diamonds, to a lady wearing peacock feathers, ‘I never before saw the Duchess crying.'

‘It's a love story, of course,' said the befeathered lady, ‘and it was a malicious trick on someone's part to introduce that individual…'

‘Do you think that…?'

‘I'm quite sure,' she replied, with a shrug. ‘One only has to look at him. Very bad manners, but what features, what pride of bearing! Noble birth cannot be concealed, not even by rags…'

‘How extraordinary,' said the lady in diamonds, ‘and that fortune of his, allegedly made in Bulgaria?'

‘Of course. That helps explain why the Duchess, despite her wealth, spends so little on herself…'

‘And the Prince so very civil to him…'

‘That was the least he could do… Just to look at the pair of them is enough…'

‘Yet I wouldn't say there was any likeness…'

‘Perhaps not, but—that pride, that self-confidence…and how very freely they talked to one another…'

At another table three men were conferring: ‘Well, the Countess has achieved a real
coup d'état
!' said a dark man with a forelock.

‘And it succeeded. Wokulski is somewhat on the stiff side in his manners, but there's something about him for all that,' replied a grey-haired man.

‘Of course he's in trade…'

‘Trade is no worse than banking…'

‘But a tradesman in haberdashery, he sells pocket-books,' the dark man insisted.

‘We sell coats of arms sometimes,' put in the third, a lean old man with grey whiskers.

‘On top of this he wants to marry here…'

‘So much the better for our girls…'

‘I'd let him have my daughter. I hear he's respectable, wealthy, he won't gamble her dowry away.'

The Countess passed by them swiftly: ‘Mr Wokulski,' she said, and stretched out her fan in the direction of the alcove.

Wokulski hastened to her side. She gave him a hand, and they left the drawing-room together. Men at once surrounded the Prince, some asked to be introduced to Wokulski. ‘It is worth while,' said the Prince, gratified. ‘There has never yet been such a man among us. Had we drawn closer to them long ago, our unhappy country would be different today…'