d, I see you have not the slightest notion about races."

I said to her with my eyes: "I know you want to stifle your feelings;"
and she understood me as if I had said it in so many words. And
indeed, I am quite certain that she is as much absorbed in our mutual
relation as I am. The thought of love independent of matrimony is
already planted in her soul; it is there, and does not leave her for
a moment. She must live with it, and get reconciled to it. In such a
case a woman, even if she had loved her husband, would turn from him.
A drop of water will hollow out a stone. If Aniela loves me ever so
little, if she only loves the past, she will be mine. I cannot think
of it calmly, because the foretaste of happiness is almost choking me.

There are here and there quicksands on the seashore, and the unwary
traveller who wanders there is lost. At times it seems to me that my
love is like one of those quicksands, and that I am dragging Aniela
into it; I myself am sinking, sinking--Let it be so--but together!

28 May.

My aunt is spending six to eight hours out of the twenty-four at
Burzany, one of her farms, a mile from Ploszow, where she passes her
time in contemplation of Naughty Boy, and in looking after Webb, the
English trainer. I was there above an hour yesterday. Naughty Boy is
a fine animal,--let us hope he will not be naughty when the great day
arrives. But what does it matter to me? Various business is taking me
to town, but I am loath to leave Ploszow. Pani Celina has been worse
the last few days, but young Chwast, as my aunt calls him, says it
is merely a passing symptom; he considers it necessary that somebody
should always be with the sick lady, to distract her from the thoughts
which dwell upon the loss of the dear ancestral home, and consequently
weaken her nerves. I try to show her almost a son's attention, because
in this way I earn Aniela's gratitude, and she gets used to consider
me as belonging to them. I have now not the slightest ill-feeling
towards the old lady,--she is too unhappy herself; and besides, I
begin to love everything and everybody that belongs to Aniela,--with
one exception.

Yesterday I spent several hours with the invalid, together with Aniela
and Chwast. We were reading and talking. Pani Celina does not sleep at
night, and as the doctor does not approve of sleeping-draughts, she
dozes off in the daytime after any lengthy conversation, and strange
to say, only a sudden silence wak