The Doll (30 page)

One of the first guests was Mr Łęcki; he drew Wokulski aside, and once again asked him about the aim and significance of the partnership, to which he already belonged heart and soul, though he could never remember quite what it was all about.

Meanwhile, the other gentlemen eyed the intruder and commented in lowered voices: ‘Looks like a bull!' whispered a stout marshal, indicating Wokulski with his eyes, ‘the tufts on his head stick up like a bison's, as for his chest…my word! And sharp eyes…He wouldn't soon get tired out hunting.'

‘And that face!' added a Baron with the features of Mephistopheles, ‘his forehead, my dear sir! His whiskers! His imperial, my dear sir…features somewhat…hm, but all in all…'

‘Let us wait and see how he gets on in business,' put in a somewhat round-shouldered Count.

‘He's bold, he takes risks, oh dear me, yes,' another Count exclaimed, as though speaking out of a deep cellar, as he sat stiffly in a chair, looking—with his luxuriant whiskers and glassy eyes—for all the world like an Englishman in the
Journal amusant
.

The Prince rose from his armchair and coughed: everyone fell silent, so it was possible to catch the end of the marshal's anecdote: ‘We were all looking hard into the forest, when something squeaks under our horses' hoofs. Just fancy, my dear sir, one of the dogs was throttling a hare…' With this, the marshal with an immense hand, clapped one thigh, out of which both a secretary and his assistant might have been hewed.

The Prince coughed again; the marshal wiped his forehead in embarrassment with an unusually large silk handkerchief. ‘Gentlemen,' said the Prince, ‘I have taken the liberty of bringing you here in a certain…very important connection, which as we all know must always stand on guard over public interests…I mean…of our ideas…that is to say…' The Prince seemed flustered. Suddenly, however, he got his second wind and went on: ‘It is in connection with trade…that is to say it is a plan…or rather a project of forming a partnership to facilitate trade…'

‘In wheat,' said someone in a corner.

‘To be precise,' said the Prince, ‘not wheat exactly, but…'

‘Spirits,' the same voice said, hastily.

‘Not at all! Trade, or rather the facilitating of trade between Russia and abroad in goods…While it is highly desirable that our city should become the centre of any such…'

‘What sort of trade?' asked the round-shouldered Count.

‘The professional side of the question will be graciously explained by Mr Wokulski, a man…a professional,' the Prince said, adding, ‘Let us never forget the duties which our concern for public interest and this unhappy country…lay upon us…'

‘To be sure! I will contribute ten thousand roubles at once,' the marshal cried.

‘What for?' asked the Count who feigned to be a genuine Englishman.

‘No matter!' the marshal replied in a huge voice, ‘I said I'd spend fifty thousand in Warsaw this summer, so ten thousand will go to charity, as our dear Prince speaks wonderfully…sincerely, I assure you, yes—and sensibly…'

‘Excuse me, gentlemen,' Wokulski exclaimed, ‘this is not a charitable partnership, but one to ensure financial profit.'

‘That's it,' the round-shouldered Count interposed.

‘Oh dear me, yes,' the ‘English' Count agreed.

‘What sort of profit will ten thousand roubles bring me?' the marshal countered, ‘I'd be begging in the streets with such profits as that.'

The round-shouldered Count burst out: ‘Allow me to ask whether small profits should be ignored? That attitude will ruin us, gentlemen!' he exclaimed, tapping with a fingernail on the arm of his chair.

‘Count,' the Prince interrupted sweetly, ‘Mr Wokulski is speaking…'

‘Oh dear me, yes,' the ‘English' Count joined in, caressing his luxuriant whiskers.

‘Let us then ask Mr Wokulski,' said another voice, ‘that he be kind enough to present to us, with his own inimitable clarity and brevity, this matter of public interest which has brought us together here in the hospitable apartments of His Excellency…'

Wokulski glanced at the person who thus acknowledged his clarity and brevity. He was an eminent lawyer, the friend and the right-hand man of the Prince; he liked speaking in a flowery manner, beating time with one hand and listening to his own phrases, which he always found splendid.

‘Providing we all understand it,' someone muttered in the corner occupied by some gentry who hated the magnates.

‘You gentlemen know', Wokulski began, ‘that Warsaw is a trading post between Western and Eastern Europe. Here part of the French and German merchandise intended for Russia is collected and passed through our hands…We might have certain profits from this trade…'

‘Were it not in the hands of the Jews,' said someone in an undertone from the table where merchants and industrialists were sitting.

‘Not at all,' Wokulski retorted, ‘the profits would accrue if our trade were properly handled…'

‘It cannot be properly handled with Jews…'

‘But nowadays,' the Prince's lawyer interrupted, ‘Mr Wokulski is giving us the opportunity of replacing Jewish by Christian capital…'

‘Mr Wokulski is himself bringing Jews into trade,' muttered an opponent on the merchants' side.

It became quiet.

‘I must decline giving anyone an account of my way of doing business,' Wokulski went on. ‘I am putting before you gentlemen a way to establish Warsaw's foreign trade. This is the first half of my plan, and should be one source of profit for Polish investments. The second source is trade with Russia. Goods in demand here, can be obtained there cheaply. A partnership which dealt with these goods might make fifteen or twenty per cent annually on invested capital. I would mention textiles in the first place…'

‘That would undermine our own industry,' an opponent in the group of merchants cried.

‘I am not concerned with manufacturers but with consumers,' Wokulski replied.

The merchants and manufacturers began whispering together in a manner not at all favourable towards Wokulski.

‘So we have come to the question of public interest,' the Prince exclaimed in an emotional tone of voice, ‘and the problem appears to be whether Mr Wokulski's projects would be advantageous for our country. You, sir…' and the Prince turned to his lawyer, feeling the need for the latter's aid in this somewhat awkward situation.

‘My dear Mr Wokulski,' cried the lawyer, ‘pray be good enough to explain to us—with your own inimitable thoroughness—whether the importation of textiles from such a distance might harm not our own manufacturers…'

‘In the first place,' Wokulski said, ‘the factories are not ours, but German…'

‘Oho!' exclaimed someone in the merchant group.

‘I am quite ready', Wokulski went on, ‘to enumerate for you factories in which the entire administration and all the better-paid workers are Germans, in which the capital is German, and the managing directors all reside in Germany; in which our workers have no opportunities of bettering themselves, but are badly paid labourers, badly treated and totally Germanised.'

‘That is important,' the round-shouldered Count interposed.

‘Oh dear me, yes,' the ‘English' Count muttered.

‘Goodness me, it stirs me just to listen to you…' the marshal exclaimed, ‘I never thought it possible to be so taken by a conversation…I will be back directly,' and he left the room, the floor almost sinking under his weight.

‘Shall I enumerate them?' Wokulski inquired. The group of merchants and industrialists hastily proved their moderation by not asking for any names.

The lawyer rose swiftly from his chair, rubbed his hands and exclaimed: ‘I think we may now pass from the question of local factories to the next point on the agenda. Now, Mr Wokulski, will you—with your inimitable brevity—be so kind as to explain what positive advantages your project will bring…'

‘Our unhappy country…' the Prince interposed.

‘Gentlemen,' said Wokulski, ‘if a yard of my calico were to cost only two pennies less than it does today, then there would be a general saving of ten thousand roubles for every million yards purchased.'

‘What does ten thousand roubles matter?' the marshal asked. He had just come back into the room, but had not yet caught up with the course of the debate.

‘A great deal, a very great deal,' the round-shouldered Count cried, ‘we must learn once and for all to respect profits in terms of pennies.'

‘Oh dear me, yes…a penny saved is a pound made,' added the Count posing as an Englishman.

‘Ten thousand roubles is the basis for a reasonable standard of living for at least twenty families,' Wokulski went on.

‘A drop in the ocean,' one of the merchants muttered.

‘But there is yet another aspect,' Wokulski added, ‘which only concerns capitalists. I have at my disposal merchandise worth three to four million roubles a year…'

‘My word!' the marshal murmured.

‘That is not my fortune,' Wokulski continued, ‘mine is much more modest.'

‘Upon my word, I like such men,' said the round-shouldered Count.

‘Oh dear me, yes,' added the ‘Englishman'.

‘That three to four million is my personal credit and brings me in a very small interest as middle-man,' said Wokulski, ‘but I must point out that if cash could replace this credit, then the interest would amount to fifteen to twenty per cent, perhaps more. This aspect of the matter concerns you gentlemen who invest your money in banks at low rates of interest. Others use this money and draw interest for themselves. I am offering you the opportunity to use it directly and increase your own incomes. That is all.'

‘Excellent,' the round-shouldered Count exclaimed, ‘but would it not be possible to have more details?'

‘I can only discuss them with my partners,' Wokulski replied.

‘You may rely on me,' said the round-shouldered Count, and gave Wokulski his hand.

‘Oh dear me, yes,' the pseudo-Englishman added, giving him two fingers.

‘Gentlemen,' exclaimed a clean-shaven individual from the group of gentry who hated the magnates, ‘you have been referring to the calico trade, which does not interest us…But, gentlemen, we have corn in our granaries,' he added in a tearful voice, ‘we have spirits in our warehouses, which the middle-men take advantage of to exploit us in a way I can only describe as…deplorable.' He looked around the study. The group of gentry who hated the magnates cheered him on.

The face of the Prince, glowing with discreet joy, lit up at this moment with a flash of genuine inspiration: ‘But, gentlemen,' he exclaimed, ‘today we have been referring to the calico trade, but what is to prevent us debating on other matters tomorrow or the day after?'

‘Goodness me, how well the dear Prince talks, to be sure,' the marshal exclaimed.

‘Go on, go on!' the lawyer urged, forcefully showing that he was trying to put a brake on his own enthusiasm for the Prince.

‘Well, gentlemen,' the Prince went on, moved, ‘I propose further meetings: one to discuss the corn trade, another the spirits trade…'

‘And credit for the farmers?' asked one of the disunited gentry.

‘A third on credit for farmers,' said the Prince, ‘a fourth…'

‘The fourth and fifth,' the lawyer hurried on, ‘to be devoted to solving the general economic problems…'

‘Of our unhappy country,' the Prince concluded, almost with tears in his eyes.

‘Gentlemen,' the lawyer cried, blowing his nose in excitement, ‘let us honour our host, the well-known citizen, the most respected of men…'

‘Ten thousand roubles, my goodness!' the marshal exclaimed.

‘…by rising!' the lawyer hastily finished.

‘Bravo! Long live the Prince!' everyone cried, to the accompaniment of the scraping of feet and chairs. The group of magnate-hating gentry cheered loudest of all.

The Prince began embracing his guests, no longer restraining his emotion; assisted by the lawyer, he embraced everyone and wept copiously.

Some men gathered around Wokulski. ‘I shall come in with fifty thousand roubles at first,' said the round-shouldered Count, ‘next year though…let us wait and see.'

‘Thirty, sir, thirty thousand roubles, my dear sir…' added the Baron who looked like Mephistopheles.

‘And I—thirty thousand, oh dear me, yes,' added the ‘English' Count, nodding his head.

‘And I'll contribute twice—no, three times as much as our dear Prince. Goodness me!' said the marshal.

A few opponents from the merchant group also approached Wokulski. They said nothing, but their appreciative glances were a hundred times more eloquent than the most affectionate words. Then Wokulski was approached by a young man, shabby, with a thin beard and evident traces of premature decay in his entire aspect. Wokulski had encountered him at various public events and in the street too, riding by in the fastest droshkies.

‘I am Maruszewicz,' said the decayed young man with a charming smile, ‘forgive me for introducing myself in this informal manner, and at our first meeting, too—but I would like to ask you…'

‘I am at your service.'

The young man took Wokulski's arm and led him to the window: ‘Allow me to place my cards on the table at once—it is the only way with men like yourself. I am not wealthy, but have good intentions and would like to find some occupation. You are forming a partnership, would it not be possible for me to work under your direction?'

Wokulski eyed him attentively. The proposal he had just heard did not, somehow, suit the decayed aspect and uncertain looks of the young man. Wokulski felt distaste, but said: ‘What can you do? What is your profession?'

‘Well, I have not yet chosen a profession, but I have great talents and can undertake anything.'