The Doll (54 page)

Towards six that evening, Izabela was in the drawing-room when the bell rang and she heard Mikołaj's impatient voice: ‘I told you to come back tomorrow, my master is poorly today.'

‘What am I supposed to do when your master has money but is poorly, and when he's well he has no money?' replied another voice, lisping slightly like a Jew's.

At this moment the rustle of a woman's dress was heard in the vestibule, and Flora hastened in, saying: ‘Be quiet! Quiet, for goodness sake … Come back tomorrow, Mr Spigelman … Surely you know the money will be here …'

‘That's just why I have come today, and for the third time too. Tomorrow other people will come, and I'll be made to wait again.'

The blood went to Izabela's head and without realising what she did, she suddenly went into the vestibule: ‘What is it?' she asked Flora. Mikołaj shrugged and tip-toed back into the kitchen.

‘It's me, your ladyship … David Spigelman,' replied a little man with black beard and dark spectacles, ‘I've come to see His Excellency on a little matter of business …'

‘Bela, dear,' Flora exclaimed, trying to draw her cousin away. But Izabela freed herself and seeing that her father's study was unoccupied, she told Spigelman to go in.

‘Think, Bela — what are you at?' Flora protested.

‘I want to find out the truth once and for all,' said Izabela. She shut the study door, sat down and looking into Spigelman's dark glasses, she asked: ‘What business have you to discuss with my father?'

‘My apologies, your ladyship,' said the visitor, bowing, ‘it is a very small matter. I only want my money back.'

‘How much is it?'

‘Altogether about eight hundred roubles.'

‘You will get it tomorrow …'

‘My apologies, your ladyship, but … for six months I've been getting that “tomorrow” week after week and don't see neither interest nor capital …'

Izabela felt breathless and there was a pain in her heart. However, she mastered herself: ‘You know my father is to get thirty thousand roubles… Apart from that (she said this without thinking) we shall be getting ten thousand a year. Your small sum will not disappear — surely you understand that?'

‘How ten thousand?' the Jew asked, and raised his head impudently.

‘What do you mean — “how”?' she replied indignantly, ‘interest on our fortune…'

‘From thirty thousand?' the Jew interrupted a smile, thinking she wanted to trick him.

‘Yes.'

‘My apologies, miss,' Spigelman replied ironically, ‘I have been making money a long time but I never heard of no such interest. On thirty thousand His Excellency may get three thousand, even then on a very dubious mortgage. But what's it to me? My business is to get my money back. For when the rest come tomorrow, they will be better than David Spigelman, and when His Excellency pays off the rest at interest, I'll have to wait a year …'

Izabela rose: ‘I assure you you will get your money tomorrow,' she exclaimed, eyeing him contemptuously.

‘Word of honour?' asked the Jew, relishing her beauty.

‘On my word, you will all be paid off tomorrow. All of you, down to the last penny.'

The Jew bowed low and retreated backwards as he left the study: ‘I'll see if your ladyship keeps her word,' he said as he left. Old Mikołaj was in the hall again and opened the door for Spigelman with such grace that the latter shouted at him from the stairs: ‘What are you falling over yourself for, Mr Butler?'

Pale with fury, Izabela hurried to her father's bedroom. Flora stopped her. ‘Leave him alone, Bela,' she said imploringly, ‘your father is so ill …'

‘I assured that man all our debts will be paid and they must be. Even if it prevents us from going to Paris …'

Tomasz, in slippers and without his frock-coat, was just walking about in his bedroom when his daughter entered. She observed that her father looked very poorly, his shoulders were bowed, his grey whiskers drooping, even his eyelids bowed, and he was as bent as an old man, but these observations only prevented her from an outburst of anger, not from settling the matter.

‘I apologise, Bela, for being in this undress … What has happened?'

‘Nothing, father,' she replied, controlling herself, ‘some Jew was here …'

‘It must have been Spigelman … He's as troublesome as a mosquito …' Tomasz exclaimed, clutching his forehead, ‘let him come back tomorrow …'

‘That is precisely what he is going to do — he and the other …'

‘Good … very good … I have long been thinking of settling with them. Well, thank Heaven it has cooled off somewhat …'

Izabela was astounded by her father's tranquillity and wretched appearance. It was as though he had gained several years in age since that afternoon. She sat and looking around the bedroom asked, as if reluctantly: ‘Do you owe them a great deal, papa?'

‘Not much … a trifle … a few thousand roubles.'

‘Are these the promissory notes which my aunt mentioned that someone had bought up last March?'

Mr Łęcki stopped in the middle of the room, cracked his fingers and exclaimed: ‘O goodness! I had quite forgotten them!'

‘So we have debts of more than a few thousand?'

‘Yes, yes … a little more. I think it must be from five to six thousand. I'll ask that honest fellow Wokulski, he'll see to it for me …'

Despite herself, Izabela was shocked: ‘Spigelman says,' she went on after a moment, ‘that it is impossible to get ten thousand interest on our fortune. Three thousand at the most, and then on a dubious mortgage …'

‘He's right — on a mortgage, but commerce is not mortgages. Commerce can provide thirty per cent … But how does Spigelman know about our interest rate?' Tomasz asked, wondering a little.

‘I told him without meaning to,' Izabela explained, blushing.

‘That was a pity … a great pity … it is better not to mention such matters.'

‘Is it anything bad?' she whispered.

‘Bad? Well, nothing bad, goodness me … But it is always better if people don't know the source of one's income … The Baron, or even the marshal himself, wouldn't have the reputations of millionaires and philanthropists if all their secrets were known …'

‘Why is that, father?'

‘You are still a child,' said Tomasz, somewhat embarrassed, ‘you are an idealist, so … it might set you against them. But you have common sense, after all. The Baron, d'you see, is in some company with usurers and the marshal's fortune came mainly from lucky fires … and trading in beef during the Crimean war.'

‘So that is what my suitors are like?' Izabela murmured.

‘It means nothing, Bela. They have money and plenty of credit, and that is the main thing,' Tomasz assured her.

Izabela shook her head as if to dispel disagreeable thoughts: ‘So, papa, we shall not be going to Paris?'

‘Why not, my child, why not?'

‘If you are going to pay five or six thousand to those Jews …'

‘Oh, don't worry about that. I'll ask Wokulski to get me that amount at six or seven per cent, and we will pay it off at four hundred a year. After all, we have ten thousand.'

Izabela hung her head, softly drummed on the table and pondered: ‘Aren't you afraid, papa — of Wokulski?' she asked, after thinking.

‘I?' Tomasz cried, and struck himself on the chest, ‘I'm afraid of Joanna, Hortensja, even of our Prince and all of them together, but not of Wokulski. If you'd seen how he bathed my head with eau de cologne today … And with what alarm he looked at me! He is the noblest man I ever met … He cares nothing for money, cannot profit from me but cares for my friendship … God has sent-me him and at a time when … I am beginning to feel my age and perhaps … death.'

With this, Tomasz began blinking his eyes, from which a few tears oozed.

‘Papa, you are ill!' Izabela cried, alarmed.

‘No, no — it is the heat, the vexation and above all — my grievances. Just think: did anyone call on us today? No one, because they think we have already lost everything … Joanna is afraid I may borrow money from her for tomorrow's dinner … The same goes for the Baron and the Prince … When the Baron learns we have thirty thousand left, he will come here — for you. Just think that even if he married you with a dowry, he would not have to spend any money on me … But calm yourself; when they hear we have ten thousand a year, they will all come back again and you will reign in your drawing-room as before. My God, how vexed I am!' said Tomasz, wiping his tearful eyes.

‘Am I to send for the doctor, papa?'

Her father considered: ‘Tomorrow, tomorrow will do … by tomorrow it may have passed of its own accord.'

At this moment a knock came at the door: ‘Who is it? Who's there?' asked Tomasz.

‘The Countess has come,' said Flora's voice from the corridor.

‘Joanna?' Tomasz exclaimed with joyful surprise, ‘go to her, Bela … I must collect my wits somewhat … Well, just fancy! I wager she has found out about the thirty thousand … Go to her, Bela! Mikołaj!'

And he began fidgeting around the bedroom looking for various parts of his attire, while Izabela went to her aunt, who was already awaiting her in the drawing-room. Seeing Izabela, the Countess embraced her: ‘So God is good, after all,' she exclaimed, ‘to send you so much happiness! Well, I hear Tomasz got ninety thousand for the house and your dowry is safe. I'd never have supposed …'

‘Aunt, my father expected more, but some Jew, the new purchaser, frightened off other bidders,' said Izabela, rather offended.

‘Oh, my child — haven't you found out about your father's impractical ways? He may have imagined the house was worth millions, while in fact it was worth seventy thousand or so at the most. After all, houses are auctioned every day, everyone knows what they are like and what is paid for them. Anyhow, there is nothing more to be said; let your father imagine he was cheated, but you, Bela, do pray for the health of that Jew who paid ninety thousand … By the way, did you know Kazio Starski is back?'

A powerful flush appeared on Izabela's face: ‘When? Where from?' she asked, confused.

‘Straight from England, whence he'd gone from China. As handsome as ever, and now he's going to his grandmama's — she, apparently, is to leave him her fortune.'

‘Doesn't she live in your neighbourhood?'

‘That is precisely what I want to talk to you about. He asked a great deal about you, and I, being sure you have been cured of some of your whims, have advised him to call on you tomorrow.'

‘Oh, delightful!' Izabela exclaimed, gratified.

‘There, you see,' said the Countess, kissing her, ‘your aunt is always thinking of you. He is an excellent match for you, and it will be all the easier to bring it off now that Tomasz has some capital, which ought to suffice him, and Kazio has heard something of Aunt Hortensja's will in your favour. Well, I daresay Starski is somewhat in debt. But in any case, what will be left him of his grandmother's fortune plus what you may get from Hortensja, ought to suffice you both for some time. Later — we will see. He still has an uncle; you have me, so your children will not be poor.'

Izabela kissed her aunt's hands in silence. At this moment she was so beautiful that the Countess, embracing her, drew her to a mirror and said, with a smile: ‘Well, mind you look like this tomorrow and you'll see that the wounds in Kazio's heart will re-open … Though it is a pity you turned him down that time … You would have had a hundred or a hundred and fifty thousand roubles more today … I imagine that the poor boy must have spent a great deal of money in his despair … But …' the Countess added, ‘is it true that you and your father want to go to Paris?'

‘We intend to.'

‘Please, Bela,' her aunt begged, ‘do not go. I particularly want to suggest that you spend the rest of the summer with me. And you must, even if only for Starski's sake. You know, the young fellow will be bored in the country, he'll dream … You can meet every day and under such circumstances it will be the easiest thing in the world to attach him to you, even obligate him …'

Izabela blushed more than before and bowed her beautiful head: ‘Aunt!' she whispered.

‘Come, my child, don't play the diplomatist with me. A young lady of your age ought to marry — and whatever you do, avoid repeating your past mistakes. Kazio is a splendid
parti
; you won't tire of him quickly, and if he … if he does, then at least he will be your husband and will have to be tolerant about many things, just as you will. Where's your father?'

‘My father is rather unwell …'

‘Good Heavens! I daresay his unexpected good fortune has upset him …'

‘He was ill with rage at that Jew …'

‘Him and his illusions!' the Countess replied, rising, ‘I'll drop in on him for a moment to talk about your holiday. As for you, Bela, I expect you will be able to take advantage of the time.'

After half an hour's intimate talk with Tomasz, the Countess said goodbye to her niece, reminding her once again of Starski.

At about nine, Tomasz, quite contrary to his habits, went to bed, while Izabela summoned her cousin Flora to her room for a talk: ‘You know, Flora,' she said, reclining in the
chaise-longue
, ‘that Kazio Starski is back and is to call on us tomorrow …'

‘Ah …' Flora breathed, as if this event were already known to her, ‘so he is not angry?' she asked, emphasising the last word.

‘Surely not … At least, I don't know,' Izabela smiled, ‘aunt says he is very handsome …'

‘And in debt. But there is no harm in that. Who isn't nowadays?'

‘What would you say, Flora, if I were to …'

‘Marry him? I'd congratulate you both, of course. But what would the Baron say, not to mention the marshal, Ochocki and above all — Wokulski?'