hand. But I must confess
that I was not always so grateful. Sick people as a rule are fanciful
and irritable; I felt irritated at her being so tall. I felt a kind of
resentment that she was not like Aniela; for so long a time I had been
in the habit of acknowledging grace and beauty only in so far as they
approached the grace and beauty of that other one.

Sometimes, looking at Clara, I irritated myself inwardly by the most
singular thought that she is beautiful, not because nature meant
her to be beautiful,--not by right of her race,--but by a fortunate
accident of birth. Sometimes other beautiful feminine heads made
upon me the same impression. These are subtle shades which only very
delicate and sensitive nerves can perceive.

There were moments, especially at night, when, looking at Clara's face
grown thin and tired with watching me, I had a delusion that I saw the
other one. This happened when she was sitting in the half-light, a
certain distance from my bed. This delusion was fostered by fever and
a sick brain, for which impossibilities do not exist. Sometimes my
mind wandered and I called Clara by that other's name, spoke to her as
if she were Aniela. I remember it as if in a dream.

17 October.

The banker B. sent me some letters written by my aunt. She asks me
about my plans for the future. She writes even about the crops, but
nothing about the inmates of Ploszow. I do not even know whether they
be alive or dead. What an irritating way of writing letters. What do I
care about the crops, and about the whole estate? I replied at once,
and could not disguise my displeasure.

18 October.

To-day I received a telegram from Kromitzki addressed to Warsaw. My
aunt, instead of sending its contents in another telegram, put it into
an envelope, and sent it by post. Kromitzki entreats me to save my own
money and his whole future by sending him another twenty-five thousand
roubles. Beading this I merely shrugged my shoulders. What do I care
now for Kromitzki or my money? Let it go with the rest! If he only
knew the reason I helped him the first time, he would not ask me now.
Let him bear his losses as quietly as I bear mine. Moreover, there is
awaiting him the "great news;" that ought to comfort him. Rejoice as
much as you can; have as many children as you like; but if you think I
am going to provide for their future, you ask a little too much.

If at least she had not sacrificed me with such inconsiderate egois