at once into
nothing. My aunt, saying something, went out of the room, maybe to
wipe away a furtive tear at my hardness, and I went up to Aniela.

"Aniela dear! I would not marry that girl for anything in the world,
but you ought to enter a little in my position. I have troubles enough
to bear, and even here they will not leave me in peace. You know best
that I could never dream of such a step."

"On the contrary, I should be glad if that happened," she said, with
evident effort.

"It is not true! I have seen you changing color,--I have seen it."

"Permit me to go away."

"Aniela mine! you love me! do not lie to me and to yourself; you love
me!"

She grew white to her lips.

"No," she replied quickly; "but I am afraid I might learn to hate
you."

And with that she left the room. I know that to a woman who fights
with herself, a bitter and forbidden love often seems akin to hatred;
and yet Aniela's words staggered me and extinguished the newborn hope,
as one blows out a candle. There are many quite natural things in this
world which we are strong enough to bear but for our nerves. I am
struck by a truth not recognized by me formerly, not recognized
generally,--that love for another man's wife, if only a pastime is
the greatest vileness, and if real, the greatest misfortune that
can happen to any man; the more worthy the woman the greater the
misfortune. I have a burning curiosity within me, very bitter at the
same time, as to what Aniela would do if I said to her: "Either put
your arms round my neck and own that you love me, or I will blow out
my brains here before your eyes!" I know it would be the meanest thing
in the world, and I should never force her hand in that way; no!
whatever I may be, I am not bad enough for that! But I cannot help
thinking, "What would she do?" I am almost certain she would not
survive the shock and the scorn of herself, but she would not yield.
When I think of this I curse her and worship her at the same time; I
hate her and love her more than ever. The worst is I do not see how I
shall ever get out of this enchanted circle. Added to the passion
of the senses this woman wakes in me, I have for her a dog-like
affection. I envelop her with my eyes and thoughts, can never satiate
myself with the sight of her, and at the same time she is the most
desirable of women, and the very crown of my head. No other woman ever
attached me to her so absolutely and in that twofold manner.

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