he is doing for Aniela," he
said, "would be against your interest as the heir."

"Yes, that is so; but I do not spend even my income, consequently I
can speak about it quite calmly. If you cannot explain it any other
way, consider it as a whim of mine. There are such people in the
world. I may tell you that I do not intend to put any limit to my
aunt's generosity, and also that she intends to give Aniela, not the
life interest she spoke about, but the capital. Of course my influence
might turn the scale either way, but I do not intend to exert it
against you."

Kromitzki squeezed my hand with effusion, and his shoulders moved
exactly like those of a wooden manikin. How repulsive the man is to
me! I suppose he considered me more of a fool than an oddity; but he
believed me, and that was all I wanted. He is quite right as to that,
for I was decided that Aniela should have the capital instead of only
a life interest. I saw that he was consumed with curiosity to know how
much and when; but he understood that it would not do to show his
hand so openly, and therefore remained silent as if from emotion. I
continued:--

"You must remember one thing, my aunt wants careful handling. I know
for certain that she means to provide for Aniela; but it all depends
on her will, and even her humor. In the mean while, what is it you
both are doing? Yesterday you made her angry, and to-day Aniela
vexed her still more. As the future heir I ought to rejoice at your
blunders, and not warn you, and yet you see I am doing the opposite.
My aunt was deeply hurt by Aniela's plan, and in her anger turned upon
you, hoping, I fancy, that you would take her side; but you, on the
contrary, supported them!"

"My dear fellow," said Kromitzki, squeezing my hand again, "I will
tell you openly that I agreed to their plan because I was vexed with
your aunt, and that is the top and bottom of it. There is no sense in
it at all. I cannot stand exaltation, and both these women are full of
it. They always seem to think they ought not to take advantage of your
aunt's hospitality, that they cannot always remain at Ploszow, and so
on, _ad infinitum_. I am heartily sick of it. In the mean while it is
this way: I cannot take them with me to Turkestan, and when I am there
it is all the same to me whether they are at Odessa or at Warsaw. When
I wind up my affairs, with a more than considerable fortune, I hope I
shall give them, of course, an adequate home. That will