Authors: Boleslaw Prus
âVery likely they are thinking I have given myself up to dissipation altogether,' the unhappy Ignacy sighed.
Then he brought out the ledgers, dipped his pen and made as if he were reckoning. He was certain he smelled of beer like an old barrel turned out of a vaults, and began very seriously to consider whether he ought not to resign from the store after having committed such a series of shameful actsâ¦
âI got drunkâ¦came home lateâ¦got up lateâ¦I was forty minutes late to workâ¦'
At this moment Klein came up with a letter: âIt says “Very Urgent” so I opened it,' said the starveling clerk, giving Rzecki the envelope. Ignacy took it and read:
âStupid manâor vile! Despite so many benevolent warnings you are nevertheless set on buying a house which will prove the tomb of your dishonestly gained fortuneâ¦'
Ignacy glanced at the last line but there was no signature: the letter was anonymous. He looked at the envelope; it was addressed to Wokulski. He went on reading:
Bad luck has placed you in the path of a certain genteel lady whose husband you have almost slain and today you seek to snatch away from her the house in which her beloved daughter expiredâ¦Why are you doing this? Why are you going to payâif it is trueâninety thousand roubles for a house not worth more than sixty thousand? These are the secrets of your own black soul which Heavenly justice will at some future date lay bare and which respectable persons will punish with contempt.
Ponder what you are about, while there is yet time. Do not destroy your soul and your fortune, and do not poison the tranquillity of a respectable lady whose unconsolable grief at the death of her daughter can only be consoled by the possibility of spending a little time in the room where her unfortunate child breathed her last. Recollect yourself, I charge you!
A Well-wisher.
When he had read it, Ignacy shook his head: âI don't understand a word of it,' he said, âthough I am very doubtful as to the good intentions of this lady.'
Klein looked nervously around, then, seeing that no one was watching, whispered: âSir, our old man is said to be buying the ÅÄcki house, which his creditors are to sell by auction tomorrow.'
âStaÅâthat's to say Mr Wokulskiâis buying a house?'
âYes, yes,' Klein nodded, âbut not in his own name, only through old Szlangbaum. At least that's what people are saying in the house where I live.'
âFor ninety thousand roubles?'
âExactly so. But Baroness Krzeszowska wants to buy the house for seventy thousand, so very likely the anonymous letter is from her. I'd even lay a bet on it, for she's a regular demon of a woman.'
A customer, entering the store to purchase an umbrella, took Klein away. Very peculiar notions began circulating in Ignacy's head: âIf I', he told himself, âbrought about as much confusion in the shop by wasting one evening, then what sort of confusion will StaÅ cause in the business, spending days and weeks at the Italian actors and evenâgoodness knows what else.'
At this moment, however, he recalled there was not so much confusion in the shop on Wokulski's behalf, and that business was going very well on the whole. It was even true that despite his strange way of life, Wokulski was not neglecting the duties of the head of the establishment.
âBut why should he want to lock up ninety thousand roubles in bricks and mortar? And how do these Leckis come into it? For goodness sake, StaÅ isn't such a foolâ¦'
All the same, the purchase of the house alarmed him: âI'll ask Henryk Szlangbaum,' he thought, getting up.
In the cloth department the little hunchbacked Szlangbaum with his red eyes and a fierce look on his face was moving about as usual, jumping up and down ladders, or pouncing between rolls of calico. He was so accustomed to his feverish labours that although there were no customers, he kept bringing out one roll or another, then unrolling and rolling them up again so as to replace in its proper place on the shelf.
Seeing Ignacy, Szlangbaum interrupted his pointless labours and wiped the sweat from his brow: âHard work, ain't it?' said he.
âWhat are you bringing all that stuff down for, when there aren't any customers in the store?' Rzecki asked.
âWell, if I didn't, I'd forget where things areâ¦My joints would get rusty. Besides, I'm used to itâ¦Do you have some business with me?'
Rzecki hesitated a moment: âNoâ¦I just wanted to see how things were going,' Ignacy replied, blushing as much as was possible at his age.
âCan he be suspecting me, watching me?' passed through Szlangbaum's mind swiftly, and rage seized him: âYes, my father is rightâ¦Everyone is against the Jews today. Soon I'll have to let my hair grow and put on a skull-capâ¦'
âHe knows something!' Rzecki thought, and said aloud: âApparently your respected father is buying a house tomorrowâthe ÅÄcki house.'
âI know nothing about that,' Szlangbaum replied, looking away. Inwardly he added: âMy old man is buying the house on Wokulski's behalf, and they think and no doubt say âLook thereâanother Jew, a usurer, has ruined a Catholic and real gentlemanâ¦'
âHe knows something but won't talk,' Rzecki thought, âthat's a Jew all over.'
He fidgeted about a little longer, which Szlangbaum took for more suspicion and spying, then went back to his own place, sighing: âIt's awfulâStaÅ trusts Jews more than he trusts meâ¦But why is he buying the house, why is he taking up with the ÅÄckis? Perhaps he isn't going to buy it? Perhaps this is only a rumour?'
He was so alarmed at the thought of ninety thousand being locked up in bricks and mortar that he thought of nothing else all day. There was a moment when he thought of asking Wokulski directly, but he lacked courage: âStaÅ,' he told himself, âis taking up with gentlefolk but he confides in Jews. What does old Rzecki mean to him?'
So he decided that next day he would go to the auction and see whether in fact old Szlangbaum bought the ÅÄcki house and whether, as Klein had said, he bid up to ninety thousand roubles. If that happened, it would be a sign that everything else was going to follow.
In the afternoon, Wokulski dropped by the store and began talking to Rzecki, questioning him about the theatre the previous evening, why he had quit the front row of the stalls and had let the album be handed to Rossi by Pifke. But Ignacy's heart was so full of sorrow and doubts about his dear StaÅ, that he replied in an undertone and with a sulky look on his face.
So Wokulski fell silent too, and left the shop with bitterness in his soul: âThey are all turning away from me,' he told himself, âeven Ignacy. Even heâ¦But you will be my reward,' he added in the street, looking in the direction of Aleje Ujazdowskie.
When Wokulski had left the store, Rzecki cautiously asked the âgentlemen' in which court-room and at what time the auctions of houses took place. Then he asked Lisiecki to deputise for him next day between ten in the morning and two in the afternoon, and set about his accounts with redoubled fervour. Mechanically (though without a mistake) he added up columns of figures as long as Nowy Åwiat Street, and in the intervals he thought: âI have wasted nearly an hour today, tomorrow I'll waste about five, and all because StaÅ trusts Szlangbaum more than me. What does he want an apartment house for? Why the devil is he taking up with that bankrupt ÅÄcki? What put it into his head to rush off to the Italian company and on top of it all to give expensive gifts to that strolling player Rossi?'
He sat at the cash-desk till six o'clock without looking up from the ledgers, and was so absorbed that he not only declined to take money but did not even see or hear the customers who flocked in and made a noise in the store like so many bumble-bees in a hive. He did not even notice a most unexpected visitor whom the âgentlemen' greeted with loud cries and embraces. Not until the newcomer stopped in front of him and shouted into his ear: âIgnacy, it's me!' did Rzecki awaken, raise his head, brows and eyes and perceive Mraczewski.
âHa?' Ignacy inquired, eyeing the young dandy, who had got sunburned, grown manlier andâabove allâplumper.
âWell, what's the news?' Ignacy went on, shaking his hand, âwhat about politics?'
âNothing new,' Mraczewski replied, âthe Berlin congress is doing its job, the Austrians will take Bosniaâ¦'
âWell, well, jokesâthat's all. But what's the news about young Bonaparte?'
âHe's studying at a military school in England and they say he's in love with some actress or other.'
âThere, he falls in love right away,' Ignacy repeated, âwhy doesn't he go back to France? What do you think? And what are you doing here? Come, let's hear it!' Rzecki exclaimed cheerfully, taking him by the arm, âwhen did you arrive?'
âIt's a long story,' Mraczewski replied, throwing himself into a chair, âSuzin and I arrived at elevenâ¦We were at Wokulski's from one to three, and after that I called on my mother and on Mrs Stawskaâ¦A fine woman, ain't she?'
âStawska? Stawska?â¦' Rzecki recollected, frowning
âGo onâyou know her! That pretty woman with the little daughter. The one you took such a fancy toâ¦'
âOh herâ¦I knowâ¦It wasn't that I took a fancy to her,' Rzecki sighed, âonly I thought she'd make a good wife for StaÅ.'
âYou're a card, you are,' Mraczewski laughed, âshe's already got one husband.'
âAlready got one?'
âCertainly. Besides, the name is well-known. Four years ago the poor devil ran away abroad, for they accused him of murdering thatâ¦'
âYes, I remember. So that's the man? Why didn't he come back, after all it turned out he wasn't guilty.'
âOf course he wasn't,' Mraczewski agreed, âbut anyhow, since he got away to America there has been no word of him to this day. I daresay the poor wretch has perished somewhere and Mrs S. is left neither a spinster nor a widow. Awful fate! To keep a household going by embroidery, piano lessons, English lessonsâ¦To work all day like a horse and still not to have a husbandâ¦Poor woman! We wouldn't remain virtuous so long, would we, Ignacy, eh? That old madmanâ¦'
âWho's a madman?' Rzecki asked, astonished by the sudden change in the conversation.
âWhoâif not Wokulski?' retorted Mraczewski, âSuzin is going to Paris and insists on taking him along too, as he is going to make some huge purchase there. Our old man wouldn't have to pay a penny for the trip, he'd live like a prince, for the further Suzin is from his wife, the more money he spends. And on top of all thisâhe'd make some ten thousand roubles profit.'
âYou mean StaÅâour bossâwould make ten thousand roubles?' Rzecki asked.
âOf course! But now that he's grown so sillyâ¦'
âOh come, Mr Mraczewski,' said Ignacy threateningly.
âUpon my word, he has! For I know he's going to the Paris Exhibition any week now.'
âYes, that's so.'
âSo why doesn't he choose to go with Suzin, without spending his own money, and he'd make so much into the bargain. For two weeks Suzin has been begging him: “Come with me, StanisÅaw Piotrowicz!” He begged and prayed, but all in vain. Wokulski just won'tâ¦He says he has some business hereâ¦'
âWell, so he has,' Rzecki interrupted.
âHas he, though?' Mraczewski mocked him, âhis main business is not to vex Suzin, who helped him make a fortune, allows him huge credit and sometimes said to me he would not settle down until StanisÅaw Piotrowicz had made at least a million roubles. And to refuse such a friend such a small favour, when it's well paid into the bargain!' Mraczewski burst out.
Ignacy opened his mouth, then bit his lip. At this moment he very nearly said that Wokulski was buying the ÅÄcki house, and had given Rossi expensive gifts.
Klein and Lisiecki approached the cash-desk. As they were not busy, Mraczewski began talking to them, and Ignacy was again left alone over his ledger. âWhat a misfortune,' he thought, âwhy doesn't StaÅ go to Paris for nothing, and when Suzin asks him to? Some evil spirit has bound him to these ÅÄckis. Can it possibly be true thatâ¦? No, he isn't so stupidâ¦All the same, it's a pity about the trip and the ten thousand roublesâ¦My goodness, how people change, to be sureâ¦'
He bowed his head and, his finger moving up and down, added up columns of figures as long as Nowy Åwiat and Krakowskie PrzedmieÅcie. He calculated without making a single error, though he softly muttered and at the same time thought to himself that his StaÅ was on the brink of some fatal precipice.
âIt's all in vain,' a voice hidden in the very depths of his soul whispered to him, âStaÅ has got himself involved in some important affairâ¦It must be political, for a man like that wouldn't go off his head for a woman, even if she were that Missâ¦herselfâ¦Oh, for goodness sake, I've made a mistakeâ¦He refuses, he despises ten thousand roublesâhe who eight years ago had to borrow ten roubles a month from me to eat like a beggarâ¦And now he's throwing away ten thousand, bricking up ninety thousand, making presents worth dozens of roubles to actorsâ¦For goodness sake, I don't understand it at all! And yet he's supposed to be a positivist, a man who thinks realisticallyâ¦They call me an old romantic, yet I wouldn't commit such folliesâ¦Well, however, if he has got himself involved in politicsâ¦'
These meditations filled in the time until the closing of the store. His head ached a little, so he went for a stroll to Nowy Zjazd, and went to bed early when he reached home.
âTomorrow,' he told himself, âI'll find out what is really going on. If Szlangbaum buys the ÅÄcki house and pays ninety thousand roubles, that will mean StaÅ has really supplied him and is already completely off his head. But what if StaÅ don't buy the house, what if it's only gossip?'
He fell asleep and dreamed he saw Izabela in the window of a big house, and Wokulski, who was beside him, wanted to hurry to her. Ignacy tried to prevent him in vain, until sweat bathed his entire body. Wokulski tore himself away and disappeared into the gateway of the house. âStaÅ, come back!' Ignacy cried, seeing the house begin to collapse. And in fact, it caved in altogether. Izabela, smiling, flew out of it like a bird, but there was no trace of Wokulski.