; but I have written a long letter to my aunt,
quite different from that I wrote at Peli. Within a week, or at the
most ten days, I shall get an answer, and according to it I shall
either go or stay,--in fact, I do not know myself yet what I shall do.
I might count upon a favorable answer if I had written for instance
like this: "Dearest aunt, send Kromitzki about his business; I beg
Aniela to forgive me. I love her, and my dearest wish is to make her
my wife." Unless she were married already,--and things could not have
been managed there so speedily,--such a letter could have but one
result. But I did not write anything of that kind. My missive was
intended to reconnoitre the position, sent in fact as a scout to find
out how affairs were progressing, and partly, to learn what Aniela
was thinking. To say the truth, if I did not express myself more
definitely, it is because experience has taught me to mistrust myself.
Ah! if Aniela, in spite of the wrong inflicted upon her by me,
refused Kromitzki, how gratified I should feel towards her; and how
immeasurably higher she would rise in my esteem if once removed from
the ranks of marriageable girls whose only aim is to get a husband.
What a pity I ever heard about Kromitzki. Once rid of the entanglement
with Laura, I should have flown on wings to Aniela's side. This dear
aunt has managed things with a clumsy hand in writing to me about
Kromitzki and the encouragement he had from Aniela's mother. In these
times of overwrought nerves, it is not only women that are like
sensitive plants. A rough touch, and, the soul shrinks, folds itself
up, maybe forever. I know it is foolish, even wrong, but I cannot help
it. To change myself I should have to order at an anatomist's a new
set of nerves, and keep those I have for special occasions. No one,
not even Pani Sniatynski, can judge me more severely than I judge
myself. But is Kromitzki better than I? Is his low, money-making
neurosis better than mine? Without any boastfulness I may say that I
have more delicacy of feeling, nobler impulses, a better heart, more
tenderness, and--his own mother would be obliged to own it--more
intelligence. It is true I could not make millions to save my life;
but then Kromitzki has not achieved it yet; instead of that, I could
guarantee that my wife would spend her life in a broader and warmer
atmosphere; there would be more sincerity in it and nobler aims.

It is not the first time I have compared my