a doctor. I tried half a dozen of themâ¦â
âThe ones you give presents of handbags to?â Lisiecki inquired.
âHandbags? Goodness, no. Our doctor wouldnât even accept a tie-pin. Heâs an honest man ⦠Mr Rzecki, surely itâs half-past nine? My watch has stopped â¦â
âIt is nearly nine,â said Ignacy, with particular emphasis.
âIs that all? Whoâd have thought it? And Iâd decided to come first today, even earlier than Mr Klein â¦â
âSo as to get away before eight, I daresay,â Lisiecki put in.
Mraczewski fastened upon him his blue eyes, in which the utmost astonishment appeared.
âHow did you know?â he asked. âWell, upon my word, this fellow must be a prophet. It so happens that today, on my word of honour ⦠I have to be in town before seven, even if itâs the last thing I do, even if ⦠I have to give in my notice.â
âYou can make a start by doing that,â Rzecki exclaimed, âand youâll be free before eleven, mark my words! You should have been a lord, not a shop-assistant, and it surprises me you never went in for that calling â youâd always have plenty of time then, Mr Mraczewski. Oh yes, indeed!â
âCome, when you were his age, you ran after skirts too,â Lisiecki remarked. âWhy waste time preaching?â
âI never did!â cried Rzecki, thumping on the counter.
âFor once, in a way, he admits heâs been useless all his life,â Lisiecki muttered to Klein, who smiled and raised his eyebrows very high at the same time.
Another customer entered and asked for a pair of galoshes. Mraczewski moved forward to meet him.
âGaloshes for the gentleman? What size, may I ask? Ah, the gentleman doesnât recall! Not everyone has the time to remember the size of his galoshes, that is our business. Will the gentleman permit me to measure â¦? Pray, take a seat. PaweÅ! Bring the rag, take off the gentlemanâs galoshes and wipe his shoes for him â¦â
PaweÅ ran up and hurled himself at the newcomerâs feet.
âIf you please â¦â the flustered customer began.
âAllow me â¦â said Mraczewski rapidly, âthat is our duty. I think these will do,â he went on, proffering a pair of galoshes tied together. âVery good, they look fine; you have such a very normal foot, sir, that one canât go wrong as to size. The gentleman will no doubt require his initials added â what are they?â
âL. P.,â the customer muttered, as if drowning in the clerkâs rapid flow of eloquence.
âMr Lisiecki, Mr Klein, pray add the initials. Do you require your old galoshes wrapped, sir? PaweÅ! Wipe the galoshes and wrap them up ⦠But perhaps the gentleman prefers not to carry an unnecessary package? PaweÅ! Throw the old galoshes away ⦠That comes to two roubles fifty. No one will make off with galoshes that have initials on them, and it is always so disagreeable to find quite worn-out rubbish instead of articles one has just purchased â¦â
Before the customer could come to his senses, he was fitted with the new galoshes, given his change and conducted to the door with low bows. He stood for a while in the street, vacantly gazing through the glass, behind which Mraczewski bestowed on him a sweet smile and radiant look. Finally he shrugged and went on his way, no doubt thinking to himself that elsewhere galoshes without initials might only have cost ten zloty.
Rzecki turned to Lisiecki and nodded in a manner that signified admiration and satisfaction. Mraczewski caught this from a corner of his eye, ran over to Lisiecki and said in an undertone:
âJust look, doesnât our boss look like Napoleon III in profile? That nose ⦠that moustache ⦠that imperial â¦â
âNapoleon with gallstones,â Lisiecki retorted.
Ignacy grimaced with
âThe ones you give presents of handbags to?â Lisiecki inquired.
âHandbags? Goodness, no. Our doctor wouldnât even accept a tie-pin. Heâs an honest man ⦠Mr Rzecki, surely itâs half-past nine? My watch has stopped â¦â
âIt is nearly nine,â said Ignacy, with particular emphasis.
âIs that all? Whoâd have thought it? And Iâd decided to come first today, even earlier than Mr Klein â¦â
âSo as to get away before eight, I daresay,â Lisiecki put in.
Mraczewski fastened upon him his blue eyes, in which the utmost astonishment appeared.
âHow did you know?â he asked. âWell, upon my word, this fellow must be a prophet. It so happens that today, on my word of honour ⦠I have to be in town before seven, even if itâs the last thing I do, even if ⦠I have to give in my notice.â
âYou can make a start by doing that,â Rzecki exclaimed, âand youâll be free before eleven, mark my words! You should have been a lord, not a shop-assistant, and it surprises me you never went in for that calling â youâd always have plenty of time then, Mr Mraczewski. Oh yes, indeed!â
âCome, when you were his age, you ran after skirts too,â Lisiecki remarked. âWhy waste time preaching?â
âI never did!â cried Rzecki, thumping on the counter.
âFor once, in a way, he admits heâs been useless all his life,â Lisiecki muttered to Klein, who smiled and raised his eyebrows very high at the same time.
Another customer entered and asked for a pair of galoshes. Mraczewski moved forward to meet him.
âGaloshes for the gentleman? What size, may I ask? Ah, the gentleman doesnât recall! Not everyone has the time to remember the size of his galoshes, that is our business. Will the gentleman permit me to measure â¦? Pray, take a seat. PaweÅ! Bring the rag, take off the gentlemanâs galoshes and wipe his shoes for him â¦â
PaweÅ ran up and hurled himself at the newcomerâs feet.
âIf you please â¦â the flustered customer began.
âAllow me â¦â said Mraczewski rapidly, âthat is our duty. I think these will do,â he went on, proffering a pair of galoshes tied together. âVery good, they look fine; you have such a very normal foot, sir, that one canât go wrong as to size. The gentleman will no doubt require his initials added â what are they?â
âL. P.,â the customer muttered, as if drowning in the clerkâs rapid flow of eloquence.
âMr Lisiecki, Mr Klein, pray add the initials. Do you require your old galoshes wrapped, sir? PaweÅ! Wipe the galoshes and wrap them up ⦠But perhaps the gentleman prefers not to carry an unnecessary package? PaweÅ! Throw the old galoshes away ⦠That comes to two roubles fifty. No one will make off with galoshes that have initials on them, and it is always so disagreeable to find quite worn-out rubbish instead of articles one has just purchased â¦â
Before the customer could come to his senses, he was fitted with the new galoshes, given his change and conducted to the door with low bows. He stood for a while in the street, vacantly gazing through the glass, behind which Mraczewski bestowed on him a sweet smile and radiant look. Finally he shrugged and went on his way, no doubt thinking to himself that elsewhere galoshes without initials might only have cost ten zloty.
Rzecki turned to Lisiecki and nodded in a manner that signified admiration and satisfaction. Mraczewski caught this from a corner of his eye, ran over to Lisiecki and said in an undertone:
âJust look, doesnât our boss look like Napoleon III in profile? That nose ⦠that moustache ⦠that imperial â¦â
âNapoleon with gallstones,â Lisiecki retorted.
Ignacy grimaced with
Similar Books
She Died Young
Elizabeth Wilson
Christmas And Gingerbread Men
Liza Kay
Two for Joy
Gigi Amateau
The Sisters Club
Megan McDonald
Seth
Sandy Kline
Ghost Walk
Cassandra Gannon
The Warrior's Game
Denise Domning
So Inn Love
Catherine Clark
Time and Again
Nora Roberts