of my aunt's plans for their future. She listened with
comparative calmness and without showing signs of emotion. What most
gives her strength and comfort is the consciousness that so many
loving hearts are near her. I love her now beyond all words; she sees
it,--she reads it in my eyes, and in my whole manner towards her. When
I succeed in cheering her up, or call forth her smiles, I am beside
myself with delight. There is at present in my love something of the
attachment of the faithful servant who loves his mistress. I often
feel as if I ought to humble myself before her, as if my proper place
were at her feet. She never can grow ugly, changed, or old to me. I
accept everything, agree to everything, and worship her as she is.

12 November.

Kromitzki is dead! The catastrophe has come upon us like a
thunderbolt. God keep Aniela from any harm in her present state.
To-day came a telegram to the effect that, accused of fraud and
threatened with imprisonment, he has taken his life. I should have
expected anything but that! Kromitzki is dead! Aniela is free! But how
will she bear it? I have been looking again and again at the telegram,
to make sure I am not dreaming. I cannot yet believe my own eyes; but
the signature, "Chwastowski," vouches for its truth. I knew it could
not end well, but I never supposed the end would be so speedy and so
tragic. No! the thought never crossed my mind.

I feel as if I had received a blow on the head. If my brain does not
give way now, it can bear anything. I once helped Kromitzki, and
latterly I have done what I could for him, consequently I have nothing
to reproach myself with. There was a time when from my whole soul I
wished him dead,--that is true; but it is all the more to my credit
that I helped him in spite of that. And death has overtaken him, not
in consequence of anything I did, but in spite of it. And Aniela is
free! Strange, though I know it, I cannot believe it altogether. I
am as if only half conscious. Kromitzki to me was a mere stranger,
moreover the greatest obstacle in my way. The obstacle is removed,
therefore I ought to feel a boundless joy; and yet I cannot, dare not
feel it,--possibly because a fear of the consequences for Aniela is
connected with it. My first thought when I received the telegram was:
"What will happen to Aniela? How will she bear the news?" God guard
her! She did not love the man, but in her present state a shock may
kill her. I am thinking of t