her
part. Besides, the whole activity of a mind full of forethought, of
reflections apparently cool, stands eventually in proportion to the
temperature of the feeling. The hotter this grows, the more cool
reason is forced into service. I repeat, it is a mistake to represent
love with bandaged eyes. Love does not suppress reason, as it does
not suppress the breathing, or the beating of the heart,--it only
subjugates it. Reason thereupon becomes the first adviser, the
implement of war,--in other words, it plays the part of an Agrippa to
a Caesar Augustus. It is holding all the forces in readiness, leads
them into war, gains victories, and places the monarch on the
triumphal car; it erects finally,--not a Pantheon, like the historical
Agrippa,--but a Monotheon, where it serves its only divinity. In the
microcosm called man, the part reason plays is a still greater one
than that of chief commander,--for it reflects into infinite parts the
consciousness of everything and of self,--as a collection of properly
arranged mirrors reflect a given object infinitely.

1 June.

Yesterday I received news from Gastein. The rooms for Pani Celina and
Aniela are ready. I sent them the particulars, together with a parcel
of books by Balzac and George Sand. To-day is Sunday, and the first
day of the races. My aunt has arrived from Ploszow and taken up her
abode with me. That she went to the races is a matter of course,
she is altogether absorbed in them. But our horses, Naughty Boy and
Aurora, which arrived here two days ago with the trainer Webb and Jack
Goose, the jockey, are on the list for Thursday; therefore my aunt's
attendance at the Sunday races was merely a platonic affair. The
goings on here are past all description. The stables have been
converted into a kind of fortress. My aunt fancies the jockeys of
other racing studkeepers shake in their shoes at the very mention of
Naughty Boy, and are ready to use every means to prevent his running;
consequently in every orange boy or organ grinder that comes into the
yard, she sees an enemy in disguise, bent upon some evil practice. The
Swiss porter and the servants have strict orders to keep an eye upon
everybody that comes in. In the stables, the precautions taken are
still stricter. The trainer Webb, being an Englishman, remains
impassive, but the unfortunate Jack Goose, a native of Burzany, and
whose name is a literal translation from the Polish Kuba Gonsior,
fairly loses his head