aking her away from here.

What a fortunate thing that I received the telegram in my own room,
and not in the dining-room. I do not know whether I should have been
able to control my features. For some time I could not recover myself
from the sudden shock. I then went to my aunt, but did not show her
the telegram. I said only:--

"I have had bad news about Kromitzki."

"What has happened?"

"You must not be shocked, aunty."

"They brought him up for trial,--is that it?"

"No, it is worse; he is brought up for trial, but before a higher
tribunal than ours."

My aunt winked with both eyes vigorously.

"What do you mean, Leon?"

I showed her the telegram. She read it, and without saying a word went
to her prie-Dieu and buried her face in her hands. After a short time
she rose from her knees and said:--

"Aniela may pay for it with her life. What is to be done?"

"She must not know anything until after the child is born."

"But how can we prevent it? It will be in everybody's mouth; the
papers will discuss it. How can we keep it from her?"

"Dearest aunt," I said, "there is only one way. We must have the
doctor here and ask him to prescribe for her a change of air. Then I
will take her and Pani Celina to Rome. There I can keep all news from
her. Here it would be difficult, especially when the servants come to
hear about it?"

"But will she be able to bear the journey?"

"I do not know; it all depends upon what the doctor says; I will send
for him at once."

My aunt agreed to my proposal. It was really the best thing to do
under the circumstances. We resolved to take Pani Celina into our
confidence, in order that she might further our plan of departure. I
saw all the servants, and gave strict orders that all letters, papers,
and telegrams should be brought direct to my room, and nobody approach
the young lady with any news or gossip whatever.

My aunt was terribly shocked. According to her views, suicide is one
of the greatest crimes anybody can commit; therefore with the pity for
the unfortunate man, there was a great deal of horror and
indignation. "He ought not to have done this," she said over and over
again,--"especially now when he expected to become a father." But I
suppose he might not have received news of that. During the last few
weeks he must have been in a state of feverish anxiety, travelling
from one place to another as the entangled position of his affairs
drove him.

I dare not conde