The Doll (121 page)

‘What do you mean by that?' Rzecki asked, to whom a conversation about Wokulski caused as much pleasure as though it had been about his mistress, ‘what do you mean by that? Did you get to know him well?' he asked, insistently, and his eyes sparkled.

‘It was easy to know him. He was, in a word, a man of wide soul.'

‘Just so!' cried Rzecki, waving his hand and gazing at Ochocki with admiration. ‘But what did you mean by “wide soul”? Well said! Explain yourself, though — and clearly!'

Ochocki smiled. ‘You see, sir,' he said, ‘people with small souls are only concerned with their own matters, they don't think beyond the present day, and they have a horror of unknown things. Providing they are at ease and well-fed … But a fellow like Wokulski concerns himself with the interests of thousands, sometimes he looks decades ahead, and any unknown or unresolved thing attracts him irresistibly. It isn't social benefaction, but a force. Just as iron moves to a magnet, or a bee adheres to its hive without thinking, so this kind of man is drawn to all ideas and unusual work.'

Rzecki pressed both his hands and trembled with emotion. ‘Szuman …' he said, ‘the wise doctor Szuman declares Wokulski is a nincompoop, a Polish Romantic.'

‘Szuman's a fool, with that Jewish classicism of his!' Ochocki replied. ‘He doesn't even suspect that civilisation wasn't created by Philistines or by businessmen, but by just such nincompoops … If sense was a matter of thinking about income, people would still be apes.'

‘Blessed words … Beautiful words!' the old clerk repeated. ‘But pray explain, sir, in what way a man like Wokulski might … so to speak … get involved in trouble?'

‘Frankly, I am surprised it came so late, sir,' replied Ochocki, with a shrug. ‘After all, I know his life and I know that this man has almost stifled here, ever since his childhood. He had scientific aspirations, but there was no way to satisfy them; he had wide social instincts, but no matter what he touched in that field, all fell through … Even that wretched little company he founded brought nothing but complaints and hatred down on his head.'

‘You are right, sir … You are right,' Rzecki repeated. ‘And then that Izabela …'

‘Well, she might have satisfied him. With personal happiness, he would have come to terms with his environment more easily, and used up his energies in a way which is possible here. But he made a bad choice.'

‘And what now?'

‘How should I know?' Ochocki murmured. ‘Today, he is like an uprooted tree. If he finds suitable soil, and he may do so in Europe, and if he still has the energy — then he will set to some kind of work, and who knows but what he won't really begin living? But if he is worn out, which is also possible at his age …'

Rzecki put a finger to his lips. ‘Hush … Hush!' he interrupted. ‘Staś has the energy, that he has! He will still go on … on …'

He came away from the window and, leaning against the doorpost, began sobbing. ‘I'm so poorly …' he said, ‘so upset … Apparently I have heart disease … But it'll pass, it'll pass. Only — why did he run away like this? Hide himself? Not write?'

‘Oh, I can understand so well,' Ochocki exclaimed, ‘that horror a broken man feels for things which remind him of the past. How well I know it, even from my own little experience. Imagine, sir, that when I took my matriculation at the high school, I had to get through the seventh grade Latin and Greek courses in five weeks, for I'd never wanted to study them. Somehow I got through the exam, but I worked so hard before-hand that I overdid things. From then on, I've never been able to look at Latin or Greek, or even think about them. I can't bear to look at the school building, I avoided the friends who studied with me, I even had to leave the apartment where I'd studied night and day. That lasted a few months, and I really didn't get over it until … Do you know what I did? I threw all the Greek and Latin textbooks into the fire, and burned the horrible things. They smouldered an hour, then I had the ashes thrown into the garbage can, and recovered! Although even to this day, I get palpitations at the sight of Greek letters or Latin irregulars …
panis, piscis, crinis
… Ugh, how loathsome! So don't be surprised,' Ochocki concluded, ‘if Wokulski has gone away to China. Long torment may drive a man out of his senses … Though even that passes …'

‘But at the age of forty-six, sir?' Rzecki inquired.

‘With his strong organism? His powerful brain? Well, I've talked too much … Goodbye to you, sir.'

‘What, are you leaving?'

‘Yes, for St Petersburg,' Ochocki replied. ‘I have to look after the will of the late Duchess, which her grateful family want to have annulled. I shall probably stay there till the end of October.'

‘As soon as I have news from Staś, I'll let you know. Just send me your address.'

‘I'll inform you as soon as I hear something. Although I doubt … Goodbye!'

‘Come back soon!'

The conversation with Ochocki revived Ignacy. The old clerk seemed to have regained strength by talking to a man who not only understood his beloved Staś, but also recalled him in many respects. ‘He was just the very same,' Rzecki thought. ‘Energetic, sober and yet always full of high impulses.'

We may say that the convalescence of Ignacy began on this day. He left his bed, changed his robe for a frock-coat, spent more time in the store and even went out frequently into the streets. Szuman was delighted with the success of his cure, thanks to which the development of heart disease had been halted. ‘What the future holds,' he said to Szlangbaum, ‘no one knows. But it's a fact that the old man has been better for several days. He's regained his appetite, and above all, his apathy has gone. I had the same experience with Wokulski.'

But in truth, Rzecki was encouraged by the hope that sooner or later, he'd have a letter from his Staś. ‘Perhaps he's in India by this time,' he thought, ‘so by the end of September I ought to have news … Well, it's easy for such things to be delayed: I bet anything that in October…'

As a matter of fact, news of Wokulski arrived at the appointed time, though very strangely. Szuman called on Ignacy one evening at the end of September, and said with a smile: ‘Just look, sir, how that nincompoop interests people. A tenant in Zasławek told Szlangbaum that the late Duchess's carter saw Wokulski not long ago in the Zasławek forest. He even described how he was dressed, and what sort of horse he was riding.'

‘It could well be!' exclaimed Ignacy, in relief.

‘Nonsense! The Crimea, indeed, and Rome, and India — and Zasławek?' the doctor retorted. ‘Better still, another Jew who deals in coal saw Wokulski in Dąbrowa, at almost the same time. What's more, he claims to have found out that this very same Wokulski bought two loads of dynamite from a coal-miner who drinks too much … Well, surely you won't try to defend him against such stupid behaviour?'

‘Whatever can this mean?'

‘Nothing. Evidently Szlangbaum has offered a reward to the Jews for information about Wokulski, so now each one of them will catch sight of Wokulski, even if he's down a mousehole. The holy rouble has created sharp eyes,' the doctor concluded with an ironic smile.

Rzecki had to admit that the rumours were meaningless, and that Szuman's explanation was entirely natural. Yet his uneasiness for Wokulski intensified.

This uneasiness changed into genuine alarm in the face of a fact which brooked no doubt. On October 1st, one of the lawyers summoned Ignacy to his office, and showed him a document Wokulski had signed before leaving for Moscow. This was a formal will and testament, in which Wokulski bequeathed the money remaining in Warsaw, seventy thousand roubles of which was in the bank, and a hundred and twenty thousand with Szlangbaum.

To strangers, these arrangements were proof of Wokulski's irresponsibility: to Rzecki, however, they seemed perfectly reasonable. The lawyer stated: the huge sum of a hundred and forty thousand went to Ochocki, twenty-five thousand to Rzecki, twenty thousand to Helena Stawska. The remaining five thousand were divided between his former servants and the poor people he had contact with. Of this sum, five hundred went to Węgiełek the joiner at Zasław, Wysocki the Warsaw carter, and the other Wysocki, his brother, the railwayman at Skierniewice.

Wokulski had asked the lawyer, in an emotional manner, that they should accept the bequests as coming from a dead man, and told him not to publish the will before October 1st.

Among the people who knew Wokulski, a quantity of talk arose, rumours flew around, insinuations, personal insults … In a conversation with Rzecki, Szuman expressed this view: ‘I knew of your bequest long ago … He gave Ochocki almost a million zloty because he discovered in him a lunatic of the same species as himself … And I understand the gift for pretty Mrs Stawska's little daughter,' he added, with a smile, ‘but one thing alone intrigues me.'

‘What's that?' asked Rzecki, biting his moustaches.

‘How does that railroad man Wysocki come to be among the beneficiaries?'

He made a note of the name and left, thoughtfully.

Great was Rzecki's uneasiness at what might have have happened to Wokulski, why he should have made a will, and why he spoke in it like a man thinking of imminent death? Then, however, incidents occurred which brought a gleam of hope to Rzecki, and which explained Wokulski's strange behaviour to a certain extent. In the first instance Ochocki, informed of the bequest, at once replied from St Petersburg that he accepted, and wanted to have all the cash at the beginning of November, and he also reserved the right to the interest payable on it for the month of October by Szlangbaum.

In addition, he wrote to Rzecki inquiring whether Ignacy wouldn't let him have twenty-one thousand roubles in cash, out of his own capital of twenty-five thousand, in exchange for the sum payable on Midsummer day which Ochocki had on the mortgage of his country estate. ‘It is very important to me,' he concluded, ‘to have everything I possess in my hands, as I absolutely must go abroad in November. I will explain why when we meet …'

‘Why is he going abroad all of a sudden, and why is he taking all his money with him?' Rzecki asked himself, ‘and why, in the end, does he postpone explaining until we meet?'

Of course he agreed to Ochocki's offer. It seemed to him that some comfort was rooted in this sudden departure and unspoken things. ‘Who knows,' he thought, ‘whether Staś didn't take his half million roubles to India with him? Perhaps Ochocki and he will meet in Paris, at this strange Geist's? Some kind of metal … some balloon or other! Evidently he is concerned to keep the secret, at least until …'

On this occasion, however, Szuman wrecked his hopes by saying: ‘I've been having inquiries made in Paris about this famous Geist, thinking Wokulski may run foul of him. Well, Geist, who was once a very capable chemist, is today an out-and-out lunatic … The entire Academy laughs at his notions …'

The entire Academy's derision of Geist shook Rzecki's hopes very much. Surely the French Academy could evaluate those metals or balloons, if anyone could … But if the wise men had decided Geist was a lunatic, then surely Wokulski wouldn't have anything to do with him.

‘So where and why has he gone away?' Rzecki thought. ‘Well, obviously he's gone travelling, because he didn't like it here any more … If Ochocki had to quit his apartment for no better reason than Greek grammar, then there's all the more reason for Wokulski to quit a town where one woman tormented him … And she wasn't the only one! Was ever a man more slandered than he? But — why did he make a will and refer in it to death?' Ignacy added.

This question was clarified by a visit from Mraczewski. The young man came to Warsaw unexpectedly, and called on Rzecki with an embarrassed expression. He spoke brokenly, but in the end mentioned that Mrs Stawska was hesitant to accept Wokulski's bequest, and that he himself thought it worrying …

‘You're a booby, my dear young man,' Ignacy was indignant. ‘Wokulski bequeathed the twenty thousand to her, or to little Helena, because he liked her: and he liked her because he found peace in her home during his most difficult times. Surely you know he was in love with Izabela?'

‘I know that,' replied Mraczewski, somewhat more calmly. ‘But I also know Mrs Stawska had a weakness for Wokulski …'

‘What of it? Today Wokulski is very nearly dead to all of us, and God knows when we shall see him again.'

Mraczewski's face brightened. ‘That's true,' he said, ‘that's true! Mrs Stawska may accept a bequest from a dead man, I don't need to fear mention of him …'

And he left, very pleased to think that perhaps Wokulski was dead.

‘Staś was right,' thought Ignacy, ‘to word his bequests so. He lessened the embarrassment of the beneficiaries, and above all that of honest Mrs Stawska.'

Rzecki called at the store only once every few days, and his only pursuit (unpaid, by the way) was that of arranging displays in the windows, which he usually did on Saturday nights. The old clerk loved arranging these displays, and Szlangbaum had himself asked him to do them, in the hope that Ignacy would invest his capital in the store at a low interest rate.

But even these rare visits sufficed for Ignacy to realise that fundamental changes for the worse had occurred in the store. The merchandise, though showy, was of poor quality although the prices were lower too; the clerks treated their customers in a haughty manner and committed small frauds which did not escape Mr Rzecki's notice. Finally, two cashiers committed a fraud of over a hundred roubles. When Ignacy mentioned this to Szlangbaum, he heard in reply: ‘My dear sir, the public don't know nothin' about good merchandise, as long as it is cheap … As for the frauds, they happen everywhere. Besides, vere vill I get other clerks?'