Authors: Boleslaw Prus
A couple of hundred paces further, another similar gate, and between them a wide street, extending to the right and to the left. The traffic suddenly grew more dense; at least three different types of omnibus and tram ran here.
Wokulski looked right and saw two rows of street lamps, two lines of kiosks, two lines of trees and two lines of five-storey houses reaching the length of Krakowskie PrzedmieÅcie and Nowy Åwiat avenue together. The end was out of sight; only somewhere in the distance the street rose towards the sky; the roofs descended to the ground, and everything disappeared. âI'll go that way, even if I get lost and am late for the meeting,' he thought. Then, at a corner, a young woman passed him, her figure and movements making a powerful impression on Wokulski: âCan it be?â¦Noâ¦First, she stayed behind in Warsaw and then, I've already met another like herâ¦Illusions.'
But his strength, even his memory were ebbing. Now he had stopped at the junction of two streets planted with trees, with no idea whatsoever of how he had come there. Panic fear, known to people lost in a forest, gripped him; fortunately a one-horse carriage drove by, whose driver grinned at him in a very friendly manner: âThe Grand Hotel,' said Wokulski, getting in.
The driver touched his cap and cried: âGee up, Lisette! I daresay this noble foreign gentleman will treat you to a quart of beer for your troubleâ¦' Then, turning sideways to Wokulski, he said: âEither of two things, citizenâyou've just arrived, or you've lunched wellâ¦'
âI arrived today,' Wokulski replied, soothed by the sight of his round, red, clean-shaven face.
âAnd you've had a drop to drink, that's clear,' the driver remarked, âdo you know the fare?'
âNever mind thatâ¦'
âGee up, Lisette. I like this foreign gentleman and think that only fares like this should turn up at our stand. Are you sure, citizen, that it's the Grand Hotel you want?' He turned to Wokulski.
âQuite sure'.
âGee up, Lisette. This foreign gentleman is beginning to interest me. Are you from Berlin, citizen?'
âNo.'
The driver eyed him a moment, then said, âSo much the better for you. True, I've nothing against the Prussians, although they took Alsace from us and a large piece of Lotharingia too, but I never like having a German at the back of meâ¦Where are you from, citizen?'
âWarsaw.'
âAh, ça! A fine country, a rich countryâ¦Gee up, Lisette! So you're a Pole. I know the Polesâ¦Here's Opéra Square, citizen, and there's the Grand Hotel.'
Wokulski tossed the driver three francs, hurried through the gate and up to the third floor. Hardly had he stopped at his door when a smiling servant appeared and handed him a note from Suzin with a packet of letters: âMany visitorsâmany lady visitors too,' said the servant, looking at him cheerfully.
âWhere are they all?'
âIn the reception room and the waiting room and the dining room. Mr Jumart is growing impatient.'
âAnd who might Mr Jumart be?' asked Wokulski.
âYour secretary and Mr Suzin'sâ¦A very efficient man, who could be of great service if he were certainâ¦of a thousand-franc tip,' said the servant mischievously.
âWhere is he now?'
âIn your reception room on the first floor. Mr Jumart is a very talented person, but I too might be of use to your excellencies, although my name is Miller. The truth is I'm an Alsatian, and would pay you ten francs a day, upon my word, instead of taking them from you, if we could finish off the Prussians once and for all.'
Wokulski went into his room: âIn the first place,' Miller persisted, âyou gentlemen should beware of that Baronessâ¦who is already waiting in the library, though she wasn't supposed to come until three. I swear she's a Germanâ¦Me, I'm an Alsatian, after all.'
Miller said the last phrase in an undertone and retreated down the corridor. Wokulski opened Suzin's note and read: âMeeting postponed until eightâyou have plenty of time, so pray deal with the visitors, especially the women. I am too old to cope with them, God knows.' Wokulski began glancing through the letters. Most were advertisements from tradesmen, hairdressers, dentists, requests for assistance, offers to reveal various secrets, an appeal from the Salvation Army. Out of all these letters, Wokulski was most struck by this: âA young person, elegant and attractive, seeks to visit Paris with you, sharing expenses. Leave reply with the hotel porter.'
âA strange city,' Wokulski muttered. A second, still more interesting letter was from the Baroness who was waiting in the library for an interview at three o'clock. âHalf an hour yetâ¦'
He rang and ordered lunch. A few minutes later he was served with ham, eggs, steak, an unidentifiable fish, several bottles of various beverages, and black coffee. He ate ravenously, drank liberally, finally told Miller to take him to the reception room. The servant walked along the corridor with him, touched a bell, said something into a speaking-tube, then conducted Wokulski to the elevator. A minute later Wokulski was on the first floor and as soon as he emerged from the elevator he was stopped by a distinguished gentleman with a small moustache, in a frock-coat and white tie. âJumartâ¦' said this gentleman, with a bow.
They went several yards down a corridor and Jumart opened the door of a splendid drawing-room. Wokulski almost drew back on seeing the gilded furniture, huge mirrors and the walls adorned with bas-reliefs. In the centre was a huge table covered with a costly cloth and heaped with papers. âMay I announce the visitors?' Jumart asked. âThey are not dangerous, I thinkâ¦But may I venture to draw your attention to the Baroness? She's in the library.' He bowed and went solemnly into another drawing-room, which seemed to be a waiting room.
âFor goodness sake, have I got myself involved in an imbroglio?' Wokulski wondered.
Hardly had he sat down in an armchair and started looking through the papers when a servant in a blue frock-coat with gilt epaulettes entered and handed him a visiting-card on a tray. It was engraved: âColonelâ¦' and a name which conveyed nothing to Wokulski.
âAsk him inâ¦'
A moment later there appeared a man of imposing stature with a grey imperial, similar whiskers and a red ribbon in his button-hole. âI know your time is precious,' said the visitor, bowing slightly, âmy business is brief. Paris is a splendid city in every respect: whether for amusement or for studyâ¦but it needs an experienced guide. Since I know all the museums, galleries, theatres, clubs, monuments, government and private institutions, in a wordâeverythingâif you wish, sirâ¦'
âPray leave your address,' Wokulski replied.
âI speak four languages, I have a wide acquaintance in the artistic, literary, scientific and industrial worldsâ¦'
âI cannot give you an answer just now,' Wokulski interposed.
âShall I call again, or await your summons?' the visitor asked.
âYes, I'll reply by letterâ¦'
âPray bear me in mind,' said the visitor. He rose, bowed and left.
The servant brought in another visiting-card and soon another visitor appeared. He was a plump, red-faced man who looked like the proprietor of a textile emporium. He kept bowing as he crossed from the door to the table: âWhat can I do for you?' Wokulski asked.
âMy dear sir, have you not guessed, from the name Escabeau? Hannibale Escabeau?' the visitor was surprised, âthe Escabeau rifle fires seventeen rounds a minute: but the one I shall have the honour to show you fires thirtyâ¦'
Wokulski's expression was so astounded that Hannibale Escabeau, himself, began wondering: âSurely I have not made a mistake?' the visitor asked.
âYou have,' said Wokulski, âI'm a haberdashery merchant, and rifles do not concern me at all.'
âBut I was toldâin confidenceâ¦' said Escabeau significantly, âthat you gentlemenâ¦'
âYou were misinformedâ¦'
âAh, so? In that case, my apologiesâ¦It must be another room,' said the visitor, bowing as he retired.
The blue frock-coat and white trousers reappeared with another visitor: this time he was a small, lean, dark man with restless eyes. He almost ran up to the table, dropped into a chair, peered around at the door, then moved closer to Wokulski and began in a low voice: âVery likely this will surprise you, sirâ¦But the matter is urgentâ¦too urgentâ¦In the past few days I have made a tremendous discovery in rouletteâ¦All it requires is to double the stake six or seven timesâ¦'
âForgive me, sir, but I am not interested,' Wokulski interrupted.
âYou don't trust me? Naturallyâ¦But I have a roulette wheel here, we might tryâ¦'
âExcuse me, sir, I haven't time now.'
âThree minutes, sirâ¦One minuteâ¦'
âNot even half a minute.'
âSo when am I to come back?' asked the visitor, with a very desperate look.
âNot soon, at any rate.'
âSir, at least lend me a hundred francs to make an official testâ¦'
âI can spare you five,' Wokulski replied, putting a hand into his pocket.
âOh no, sirâthank youâ¦I am no tricksterâ¦But perhapsâ¦Please give me itâ¦I'll repay you tomorrow. You may change your mind in the meantime.'
The next visitor, an impressively stout individual, wearing a row of miniature medals, offered Wokulski the diploma of a Doctor of Philosophy, or a title of nobility, and seemed very surprised when his offer was declined. He left without even saying good-bye.
A short interval followed. Wokulski seemed to catch the rustle of a woman's gown in the waiting-room. He listened intently. At this moment the footman announced the Baroness.
Another long pause, then a woman appeared in the drawing-room, so beautiful and distinguished that Wokulski involuntarily rose to his feet. She might have been about forty: of imposing stature, with very regular features and the attitude of a great lady. He showed her a chair in silence. But as she sat down, he noticed she was agitated and clutching at a lace handkerchief. Looking suddenly into his eyes, she asked: âDo you recognise me?'
âNo, madam.'
âHave you never even seen any of my portraits?'
âNo.'
âThen you can never have been to Berlin or Vienna?'
âNo, never.'
The woman sighed deeply. âSo much the better,' she said, âI'll be bolderâ¦I am not a Baroness at allâ¦I am someone entirely different. But less of that. I find myself temporarily in an embarrassment. I need twenty thousand francsâ¦But as I don't want to pawn my jewellery, soâ¦Do you understand me?'
âNo, madam.'
âWellâ¦I have an important secret to dispose ofâ¦'
âI have no right to acquire secrets,' Wokulski replied, already embarrassed.
The woman shifted in her chair: âNo right, sir? Then why are you here?' she said, with a slight smile.
âI haven't the right, all the sameâ¦'
The lady rose. âThis,' she said, excitedly, âis an address where you can contact me within twenty-four hours, and here is a note which may give you cause to thinkâ¦Good-bye.'
She went out with a rustle of her gown. Wokulski glanced at the note and found it contained those details of himself and Suzin which are usually shown in passports. âHm,' he thought, âMiller and she read my passport and made a note of its contents, not without mistakes, eitherâWokulsky, indeed! Confound it! Do they take me for a child?'
As no more visitors appeared, Wokulski summoned Jumart: âYour wish, sir?' asked the elegant secretary.
âI want to talk to youâ¦'
âIn confidence? In that case, allow me to take a seatâ¦The performance is over; the costumes have gone back to the wardrobe; the actors have become equalsâ¦'
He said this in a somewhat ironical tone and behaved as befitted a very well-educated man. Wokulski grew increasingly surprised by him: âTell me,' he said, âwhat sort of people were those?'
âYour callers?' Jumart inquired, âpeopleâlike any others: guides, inventors, go-betweensâ¦Each works as best he may, and tries to do as best he can from his work. And, since they like making a profit if it's to be had for more than it's worthâwell, that's a trait of the French.'
âYou aren't a Frenchman?'
âI?â¦I was born in Vienna, educated in Switzerland and Germany, I have lived a long time in Italy, England, Norway, Americaâ¦My surname best defines my nationality: I belong to the herd I happen to be living inâa bull with bulls, a horse with horses. But, since I know the source of my income and what I spend it on, people know meâso nothing concerns me.'
Wokulski eyed him intently: âI do not understand you,' he said.
âYou see, sir,' said Jumart, drumming on the table, âI have observed too much of the world to care about a man's nationality. Only four kinds of man exist for meânot counting languages. The first are those whose source of income I know, and how they spend it; the second are those whose source of income I know, though I don't know how they spend it. The third's expenses are known, while his source of income is unknown, and the fourth kind are those whose sources of income and expenditures I don't know. I know that Mr Escabeau gets his income from a knitting factory, and he spends it on making some devilish weapons, so I respect him. As for the BaronessâI don't know where she gets her money, nor how she spends it, so I don't trust her.'
âI am a tradesman, Mr Jumart,' Wokulski remarked, disagreeably impressed by the exposition of the above theory.
âI know. And you are also a friend of Mr Suzin, which gives you interest. But my remarks didn't refer to you, sir; I merely offered them as a lecture which, I trust, may be of some profit to me.'
âYou are a philosopher,' Wokulski muttered.
âIndeed, I am a Doctor of Philosophy of two universities,' Jumart replied.
âYet you play the role ofâ¦?'