Free The Doll by Boleslaw Prus Page A

‘It was a first-rate purse, I picked it out myself.’
    â€˜What kind was it?’ Wokulski asked carelessly, as he closed the ledger.
    â€˜One of these. Look, how elegant …’
    â€˜She must have deliberated a great deal among them … She is said to be very particular in her tastes.’
    â€˜Not at all, why should she deliberate?’ Ignacy replied. ‘She looked at this one …’
    â€˜This one …’
    â€˜And wanted to take that one …’
    â€˜Ah, that one …’ Wokulski whispered, taking it up.
    â€˜But I suggested another, in this style.’
    â€˜This is a nice piece of work, all the same.’
    â€˜The one I chose was still finer!’
    â€˜I like this one very much. You know … I’ll take it myself, for mine is quite worn out …’
    â€˜Wait, I’ll pick you a better one,’ Rzecki exclaimed.
    â€˜Never mind. Show me other things, perhaps something else will come in useful.’
    â€˜Cuff-links? A tie, galoshes, an umbrella …?’
    â€˜I’ll take an umbrella … and a tie. Choose them yourself. I’ll be your only customer, and will pay cash.’
    â€˜A very good method,’ Rzecki said, pleased. He rapidly took a tie out from a drawer and an umbrella from the window and handed them to Wokulski with a smile. ‘With your discount,’ he said, ‘as trade, you owe seven roubles. An excellent umbrella … Goodness me …’
    â€˜Let us go back to your room,’ said Wokulski.
    â€˜Won’t you look around the shop?’
    â€˜Ah, what concern is …?’
    â€˜Your own shop, this fine shop, of no concern to you?’ Ignacy asked in surprise.
    â€˜How can you suppose that? … But I’m rather tired.’
    â€˜Of course,’ said Rzecki, ‘you’re right. Let us go.’
    He turned out the lights and closed the shop, letting Wokulski go first. In the passage, they met the wet snow again, and Paweł bringing dinner.

V
The Democratisation of a Gentleman and Dreams of a Society Lady
    M R TOMASZ Łęcki, his only daughter Izabela and his cousin Flora, did not live in their own house, but rented an apartment of eight rooms near Aleje Ujazdowskie. There he had a drawing-room with three windows, his study, his daughter’s boudoir, a bedroom for himself, a bedroom for his daughter, a dining room, a room for Flora and a dressing-room, not to mention the kitchen and quarters for servants, who consisted of the old butler Mikołaj, his wife, the cook, and a maid, Anna.
    The apartment had many advantages. It was dry, warm, spacious, light. It had marble stairs, gas, electric bells and taps. Each room could be linked with the others if required, or form an entity by itself. The furniture was adequate, neither too much nor too little, and each piece was distinguished by comfortable simplicity rather than striking ostentation. The sideboard made one feel certain that the silver would not disappear; the beds brought to mind well-deserved repose; the table might groan, and the chairs could be sat on without fear of their collapsing, while anyone might doze in the armchairs.
    Anyone who entered moved about freely: no one needed to fear that something would get in the way, or that he might break something. No one was bored while waiting for the master of the house, for he was surrounded by things well worth looking at. All in all, the sight of antique objects still able to serve several more generations instilled a solemn mood in the beholder.
    Its inhabitants stood out against this background.
    Mr Tomasz Łęcki was a man of over sixty, not tall, but stout, full-blooded. He wore a small white moustache, his hair was white and brushed upwards. He had grey, understanding eyes, an upright posture and walked briskly. People made way for him in the street, and simple people said: ‘He must be a real gentleman …’
    And it was true