had struck him,
as though he did not understand. He said with a trembling voice:

"Miss Janina . . . be my wife . . . I love you!"

"I do not love you . . . I cannot therefore marry you . . . I will
not marry at all!" she answered in the same cold tone, but at the
last word her voice wavered with an accent of pity for him.

"God!" cried Grzesikiewicz, holding his hand to his head. "What does
it mean? . . . You will not marry! . . . You will not be my
wife! . . . You do not love me!"

He threw himself impulsively on his knees before her, seized her
hands, and, covering them with kisses, began, with what seemed
almost tears of feverish terror, to entreat her fervently, humbly.

"You do not love me? . . . You will love me in time. I swear that I,
my mother, and my father will be your slaves. I will wait if you
wish . . . Say that in a year, or two, or even five, you will love
me. . . . I will wait. . . . I swear to you that I will wait! But do
not say no to me! For God's sake do not say that, for I shall go mad
with despair! How can it be? You do not love me! . . . But I love
you . . . we all love you . . . we cannot live without you! . . .
no. . . . Your father told me that . . . that . . . and now . . .
God! I will go crazy! What are you doing to me! What are you doing
to me!"

Springing up from the floor he fairly cried aloud with pain.

Mechanically he pulled off his gloves, tore them to pieces and flung
them on the floor, buttoned up his coat to the topmost button, and
struggling to control himself said: "Farewell, Miss Janina. But
always . . . everywhere . . . forever . . . I will . . ." he
whispered with great effort, bowed his head and went toward the
door.

"Andrew!" she called after him forcibly.

Grzesikiewicz turned back from the door.

"Andrew," she said in a pleading voice, "I do not love you, but I
respect you. . . . I cannot marry you, I cannot . . . but I will
always think of you as of a noble man. Surely you will understand
that it would be a base thing for me to marry a man whom I do not
love . . . I know that you detest falsehood and hypocrisy and so do
I. Forgive me for hurting you, but I also suffer . . . I also am not
happy oh no!"

"Janina if you would only . . . if you would only . . ."

She regarded him with such a sorrowful expression that he became
silent. Then slowly he left the room.

Janina still sat there dazed, staring at the door through which he
had gone, when Orlowski e