nder her chin. With both hands she was holding up her dress, showing
up to the ankles her little feet encased in high boots; bending
slightly forward she looked at me entreatingly.

At her sight my anger vanished at once. I forgot the unpleasant
sensations that had troubled me a little while before, and looked at
her as if I could never fill myself enough with the sight.

"Is it your wish?" I asked.

Then, turning to the people, I said:--

"Take the wood, and thank the lady for the permission."

This time they obeyed with alacrity. Some of them, evidently strangers
to Ploszow, addressed her as "gracious Panienka" (Miss), which caused
me unspeakable delight. If Ploszow were mine they might cut down every
tree at her wish. In half an hour every broken branch and fallen tree
was cleared away, and the park looked really all the better for it.
Walking with Aniela along the paths I found a great many swallows and
other birds, either killed by the storm or half dead and drenched
with rain. I picked them up, and handing them one by one to Aniela,
I touched her hands, looked into her eyes, and again felt happy. The
idyl of the day before repeated itself, for us both, and brought with
it ease and cheerfulness. My heart was full of joy, for I saw what
Aniela could not see,--that in our brotherly relation there was twice
as much tenderness as would be or ought to be between the most loving
brother and sister. I was quite sure now that, unconsciously, she
loved me as much as I loved her. In this way one half of my hopes and
schemes are realized already; there remains only to bring it home to
her and make her own to the feeling. When I think of that I remember,
with a heart beating fast with happiness, what I wrote down some time
ago: that "no woman in the world can resist the man she truly loves."

15 May.

Our visitors did not come yesterday but to-day, which was very
sensible, as all traces of the storm have disappeared and the weather
is very fine. This fifteenth of May will be one of the best remembered
days in my life. It is now past midnight; I am wide awake, as if I
never wanted to sleep again, and intend to write until morning. I am
collecting my thoughts so as not to begin at the end, and put it all
down in proper order. Force of habit is a great help in this.

My aunt sent the carriage for the Sniatynskis and Clara very early, in
consequence of which they arrived before noon. The ladies were bright,
cheerful, an