Stafva was a legendary person in whom nobody believed. She was the incarnation of the bookseller’s unrealised dreams.
“But you, Mr. Potocki?” suggested the schoolmaster.
“He’s been married once, that’s enough,” replies the bookseller.
The Pole nods his head like a metrometer.
“Yes, I was married very happily. Ugh!” he says and finishes his grog.
“Well,” continues the schoolmaster, “if women weren’t such fools, one might consider the matter; but they are infernal fools.”
The Pole nods again and smiles; being a Pole, he doesn’t understand what the word fool means.
“I have been married very happily, ugh!”
“And then there is the noise of the children, and children’s clothes always drying near the stove; and servants, and all day long the smells from the kitchen. No, thank you! And, perhaps, sleepless nights into the bargain.”
“Ugh!” added the Pole, completing the sentence.