The Doll (77 page)

‘Why?'

‘You see, sir, faith in that protects a man from despair. I, for instance, understand that I myself shall not be as happy I might once have been, nor can I give her complete happiness. The only consolation I have is the thought that we shall meet in another, better world, where we shall both be young. For she,' he added, thoughtfully, ‘will belong to me there too, since Holy Writ teaches us that what binds two people on earth will bind them in Heaven. Perhaps you, like Ochocki, don't believe this? But you must admit that … sometimes you do, and you won't give your word that it won't be so.'

A clock in the next room struck midnight: the Baron jumped up in agitation, and bade Wokulski goodnight. A few minutes later his mounting cough could be heard at the far end of the wing. Wokulski opened the window. Calcutta hens were loudly crowing near the kitchen, in the park an owl hooted: one star broke from the sky and fell somewhere behind the tree. The Baron went on coughing.

‘Is everyone in love as blind as he?' Wokulski thought, ‘for it's clear to me, and probably to everyone else, that this young woman doesn't love him at all. Perhaps she's in love with Starski … I don't understand the situation,' he went on, ‘but mostly probably it is like this: that young woman is marrying for money, and Starski is encouraging her in this with his theories. Perhaps he's in love with her himself? Not likely … Rather, he's already bored by her, and is forcing her into the marriage … Unless — but no, that would be monstrous. Only street women have lovers who trade in them. What a stupid notion! Starski may well be her friend, and is advising her what he himself believes. After all, he openly says that he himself will only marry a rich woman. That principle is as good as any other, as Ochocki would say. The Duchess rightly said that today's young people have strong heads and cold hearts. Our example has put them off sentimentality, so they believe in the power of money, which, moreover, is proof of sound sense. No, Starski is witty, perhaps something of a spendthrift, an idler, but he doesn't lack spirit.

‘Though I wonder why Mrs Wąsowska is so set against him? She may have a weakness for him, and since she also has money, they'll end by marrying. But what concern is it of mine?

‘I wonder why the Duchess didn't mention Izabela today? Well, I won't inquire. They'd immediately start talking about us.'

He fell asleep, and dreamed he was the Baron in love, with Starski playing the part of the friend of the family. He woke up, and smiled. ‘That would cure me at once,' he murmured.

In the morning he went fishing again with Felicja and Ochocki. When everyone gathered for lunch at one o'clock, Mrs Wąsowska exclaimed: ‘Will you have them saddle two horses for us? For Mr Wokulski and me?' Then, turning to Wokulski, she added: ‘We leave in half an hour. From now, you begin your service with me.'

‘Just the two of you?' inquired Felicja, blushing.

‘Would you like to ride with Julian?'

‘Oh, I say! Please don't dispose of my person for me,' Ochocki protested.

‘Fela will remain with me,' the Duchess interposed.

Blood and tears flowed into the eyes of Felicja. She glanced at Wokulski, first with anger then with contempt, and finally ran out of the room on the pretext of getting a handkerchief. When she returned, she looked like Mary, Queen of Scots in the act of forgiving her executioners, and her nose was red.

Punctually at two, a couple of fine mounts were brought around. Wokulski already waited at one, and a few minutes later Mrs Wąsowska appeared. She had on a close-fitting riding-habit, as shapely as Juno, with her chestnut hair done in a bun. She placed one foot in the groom's hand and sprang nimbly into the saddle. The riding-crop quivered in her hand.

Meanwhile, Wokulski was coolly adjusting the reins. ‘Hurry, sir, hurry!' she cried, drawing the reins on her horse so that it performed a circle and rose on its haunches: ‘Once outside the gates, we will gallop …
Avanti Savoia
!'

Wokulski finally mounted, Mrs Wąsowska impatiently cut her horse with the crop and they rode out of the yard. The road followed a linden alley a mile long. Flat fields lay on both sides, here and there were haystacks big as huts. The sky was clear, the sun cheerful, from afar could be heard the clatter of a threshing machine. They cantered for several minutes. Then Mrs Wąsowska put the handle of her crop to her lips, leaned forward and flew off at a gallop. The veil of her hat fluttered behind her like ash-coloured wings: ‘
Avanti! Avanti!
…'

They galloped several minutes. Suddenly the lady brought her horse to a halt: she was flushed and breathless. ‘Enough,' she said, ‘let's ride more slowly now.' She rose in her saddle and gazed attentively towards blue woods visible in the east. The alley came to an end: they rode on across fields where pear trees and hay-ricks stood green. ‘Tell me, sir,' she said, ‘is it a great pleasure to make a fortune?'

‘No,' said Wokulski, after a moment's reflection.

‘But spending it?'

‘I don't know.'

‘You don't know? Yet people say great things of your fortune. They say you have sixty thousand a year.'

‘I have a good deal more today, but I spend very little.'

‘How much?'

‘Some ten thousand.'

‘That's a shame. I decided to spend a great deal of money last year. My plenipotentiary and accountant assure me I spent twenty-seven thousand … I overdid things, but I didn't dispel my ennui. Today I thought I would ask you the effect of spending sixty thousand a year. But you don't spend so much … That's a pity. Do you know what? Spend sixty thousand — or no, a hundred thousand a year — then tell me whether it has any effect, and what kind. Will you?'

‘I can tell you in advance that it won't.'

‘No? Then — what is money for? If a hundred thousand a year doesn't bring happiness, what does?'

‘You could have it on a thousand a year. Everyone carries happiness within himself.'

‘Or can get it for himself?'

‘No, madam.'

‘Do you say that, you unusual man?'

‘Even if I were unusual, it's from suffering, not happiness. And still less through spending money.'

A dust-cloud appeared near the wood, Mrs Wąsowska watched it a moment, then suddenly cut at her horse and turned to the right, into the fields and off the road: ‘
Avanti! Avanti!
…' They rode ten minutes, then Wokulski drew rein. He had stopped on a hill, above a meadow as beautiful as a dream. What was there in it that was beautiful? The greenness of the grass, the curving flow of the stream, or the trees leaning over it, or the clear sky? Wokulski did not know.

But Mrs Wąsowska was not interested. She was riding headlong uphill, as if seeking to impress her companion by her courage. When Wokulski rode slowly after her, she turned her horse and impatiently exclaimed: ‘Come, sir — are you always so tedious? I didn't bring you for a ride in order to yawn, after all. Pray entertain me, immediately!'

‘Immediately? Very well. Mr Starski is a very interesting man.'

She leaned backwards as though about to fall off, and kept looking into Wokulski's eyes: ‘Ah!' she cried with a laugh, ‘I didn't expect to hear such a banal remark from you … Mr Starski interesting? To whom? To such geese as Ewelina, perhaps, but to me, for example, he has ceased to be.'

‘And yet ….'

‘No “And yets” …. He was at one time, when I intended to become the victim of marriage. Fortunately, my husband was civil enough to die early, and Mr Starski is so uncomplicated that with my experience, I saw through him within a week. He always wears that beard à la Archduke Rudolph, and has the same manner of seducing women. His glances, his hints, his mysteries are as familiar to me as the cut of his jacket. He always avoids girls without dowries, is cynical with married ladies, and sighs to eligible young women who are about to get married. Good God, how many such have I met in my life! Today I need something new.'

‘In that case, Mr Ochocki …'

‘Oh yes, Ochocki is interesting, and might even be dangerous — but for that to happen, I'd need to be born again. He's a man not of this world, while I belong to it heart and soul. How naive he is, and how splendid! He believes in ideal love, he'd shut himself up in his laboratory and be certain it would never betray him. No, he's not for me.'

Suddenly she exclaimed: ‘What is wrong with this saddle? The girth has come unfastened … Pray look.'

Wokulski jumped off his horse: ‘Will you dismount?' he asked.

‘Certainly not. Please look at it.'

He went around to the right side — the girth was tightly fastened: ‘Not there! Here! Something is wrong, near the stirrup.'

He hesitated, then drew aside her riding-habit and put his hand under the saddle. Suddenly the blood rushed to his head: the widow had moved her leg in such a way that her knee touched Wokulski's face: ‘Well?' she asked impatiently, ‘what is it?'

‘Nothing,' he replied, ‘the girth is tight.'

‘Sir, you kissed my leg!' she exclaimed.

‘No!'

She struck her horse with the crop and flew off at a gallop, exclaiming: ‘A fool — or a stone!'

Wokulski remounted slowly. Inexpressible remorse seized his heart when he thought: ‘Does Izabela go riding? And who adjusts her saddle?'

When he caught up with Mrs Wąsowska, she burst out laughing: ‘Ha ha ha! You are priceless!' Then she began speaking in a low, metallic voice: ‘A fine day has been written in the history of my life — I played the role of Potiphar's wife, and found a Joseph … Ha ha ha! Only one thing alarms me: that you don't appreciate how I can turn a man's head. At a moment like that, a hundred other men in your place would have protested they couldn't live without me, that I have robbed them of their peace of mind, and so forth … But he says “No” brusquely … For that one “No” you ought to gain a seat in the kingdom of Heaven among the innocents. A high chair, with a bar in front! Ha ha ha!'

She rocked to and fro on her saddle, laughing.

‘But what would you have done, had I replied like the rest?'

‘I'd have had one more triumph.'

‘And what would that have meant to you?'

‘I am filling up the emptiness of my life. Out of ten men who propose to me, I choose the one who seems most interesting, I play with him, dream of him …'

‘And then?'

‘I consider the next ten, and choose one.'

‘How often?'

‘Once a month. What would you?' she added with a shrug, ‘this is love in the age of steam and electricity.'

‘I see. This even reminds me of the railroad.'

‘Because it rushes along like a storm, and gives off sparks?'

‘No. It travels fast, and picks up as many passengers as it can.'

‘Mr Wokulski!'

‘I did not wish to offend you, madam: I only said what I heard.'

Mrs Wąsowska bit her lip. They rode in silence for a time. After a while, Mrs Wąsowska spoke: ‘I have placed you, sir: you're a pedant. Every evening — I don't know when, but certainly before ten o'clock — you do your accounts, then you go to bed, but before going to sleep, you say your prayers and repeat aloud: “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife.” Isn't it so?'

‘Pray continue, madam.'

‘I'll say no more, for talking to you bores me. Ah, this world brings nothing but disappointment! When we put on our first long dress, when we go to our first ball, when we first fall in love — then it seems to us that here is something new. But after a while we realise that it has already happened before, or is nothing. I remember last year, in the Crimea, a party of us were travelling along a very wild road, along which bandits once lurked. And just as we were talking about it, two Tatars came out from behind a cliff … Good God! I thought, will they kill us, for their expressions were terrible, though they were handsome men. And do you know, sir, what they proposed? … They wanted to sell us some grapes! … Grapes, sir! They were selling us grapes, and I was thinking about bandits. I wanted to knock them down in my anger, truly. Well, today you reminded me of those Tatars, sir … The Duchess told me a few weeks ago that you're a very unusual man, quite different from the rest, but now I see you're the most ordinary of pedants. Aren't you?'

‘Yes.'

‘You see, I know men. Perhaps we might gallop again? Or — no, I don't feel like it, I'm tired. Oh, if only I could meet a really new man once in my life!'

‘What would happen?'

‘He'd have a new way of behaving, he'd say new things to me, sometimes vex me to distraction, then take mortal offence and of course have to apologise. Oh, he'd love me to distraction! I'd impress myself so on his heart and mind that he wouldn't be able to forget me, not even in his grave … Well — I understand that kind of love.'

‘And what would you give him in exchange?' asked Wokulski, who was growing increasingly depressed and unhappy.

‘I don't know! Perhaps I'd decide on some folly or other.'

‘Now I'll tell you, madam, what this new man would obtain from you,' said Wokulski, spleen mounting within him. ‘First he would acquire a long list of your former admirers, then another list of the admirers to come after him, and in the entr'acte he'd have the opportunity of checking … whether your saddle is firm.'

‘That's vile!' cried Mrs Wąsowska, gripping her riding-crop.

‘It's merely a repetition of what I heard from you, madam. If I speak too frankly, however, on such short acquaintance …'

‘Not at all, please go on. Perhaps your impertinence will be more diverting than the frigid civility I know by heart. Of course a man like you despises women such as I. Well, speak up!'

‘By your leave … In the first place, let's not use strong words which aren't suited to a horseback ride. There is no question of feelings between us, only of points of view. In my opinion, your view of love implies differences which can't be reconciled.'