es me. Whereupon, leading her across the
bridge towards our villa, I said impatiently: "I could not hear what
you were saying."

"I wanted to ask you," she said, with emotion, "why you are so
different to me now? Why have you no pity upon me?"

All my blood rushed to my heart at these words.

"Can you not see," I said quickly, "that I love you more than words
can tell? and you treat it as if it were a mere nothing. Listen! I do
not want anything from you. Only tell me that you love me, surrender
your heart to me, and I will bear anything, suffer anything, and will
give my whole life to you and serve you to the last breath. Aniela,
you love me! Tell me, is it not true? You will save me by that one
word; say it!"

Aniela had grown as pale as the foam on the cascade. It seemed as if
she had turned to ice. For a moment she could not utter a word; then
making a great effort, she replied:--

"You must not speak to me in that way."

"Then you will never say it?"

"Never!"

"Then you have not the least--" I broke off. It suddenly whirled
across my brain that if Kromitzki asked her, she would not refuse him;
and at this thought rage and despair deprived me of all consciousness.
I heard the rushing of waters in my ear, and everything grew dark
before my eyes. I only remember that I hurled a few horrible, cynical
words at her, such as no man should use against a defenceless woman,
and which I dare not put down in this diary. I remember as in a dream
that she looked at me with dilated eyes, took me by the sleeve, then
shook my shoulder, and said, anxiously:--

"Leon, what is the matter with you,--what ails you?"

What ailed me was that I was losing my senses. I tore my hand away and
rushed off in the opposite direction. After a moment I retraced my
steps; but she was gone. Then I understood only one thing: the time
had come to put an end to life. The thought seemed to me like a rift
in the dark clouds that weighed upon me. It was a strange state of
consciousness, in one direction. For the moment all thoughts about
myself, about Aniela, were wiped from my memory; but I contemplated
the thought of death with the greatest self-possession. I knew, for
instance, perfectly well that if I threw myself from the rocks it
would be considered an accident, and if I shot myself in my own room
my aunt would not survive the shock. It was still stranger that, in
spite of this consciousness, I did not feel called upon to make any
choi