udgingly dole me out your words; is it right?" And I tell her so
inwardly with reproachful eyes. It is difficult to imagine love
without generosity, without a desire to make some sacrifices.

To-day on Windischgraetzhoehe we conversed together like two beings
closely connected by the ties of love and friendship, but there was
nothing in our speech that brother and sister might not have said to
each other. If we had made such an excursion before we had entered
into our compact, I should undoubtedly have taken some advantage of
it, kissed her hands or feet or even tried, if only for a moment, to
take her in my arms; to-day I walked quietly at her side, like one
who is afraid of the slightest frown. Partly I restrained myself on
purpose, thinking that in this way I should win her confidence and
favor. By this silence I meant to say: "You will not be disappointed
in me; I will take rather less than I have a right to,--so as not to
break our compact."

But one feels hurt all the same, when the sacrifice is accepted
promptly and cheerfully as soon as it is offered. Involuntarily one
says inwardly to the beloved woman: "Do not let yourself be outdone in
generosity." And I said so,--but in vain.

What is the result? A certain disappointment for myself. I used to
think if such a compact existed between us, I should have perfect
liberty within its boundaries; should be able to say, "I love you" as
often as I liked, and hear the same from her lips; and that this
would compensate me for all my torments, for the whole time of my
suffering,--in short that I should be king in that restricted kingdom;
but now it appears that my horizon gets narrower than ever, and doubts
arise within me that might be compressed in the query: "What have you
gained?" I try to chase the thoughts away. I have gained something. I
have gained the sight of a bright and happy face; I have gained the
smile; I have gained the delight of seeing her limpid eyes look
fearlessly into mine. If I feel cramped and not quite at home in the
new house, the reason is that I have not got used to it. Besides,
formerly I was without a roof to shelter me; and if I cannot always
see clearly what I have gained, I know perfectly well that I have lost
nothing. I shall never forget that.

14 August.

My aunt begins to talk about going home. She is pining after her
beloved Ploszow. I asked Aniela if she would like to go. She said she
would; therefore I too am anxious to retu