of hallucination. She beheld, as it were,
a vast edifice with a long row of columns that seemed to emerge from
the dusk and take shape. In the morning she arose so worn out that
she could scarcely stand on her feet.

She heard her father issuing orders for a sumptuous dinner and saw
them making preparations. Krenska circled about her on tiptoe and
smiled at her with a subtle, ironical smile that irritated Janina.
She felt dazed with exhaustion and the storm that was brewing within
her, and beheld everything with indifference, for her mind was
continually dwelling on the impending battle with her father. She
tried to read or occupy herself with something, but was too nervous.

She ran off to the woods, but immediately came back, for she knew
not what to do there. A lethargy seemed to take hold of her and
benumb her with an ever greater fear. Try as she would, Janina could
not shake off this depressing mood.

She sat down at the piano and began mechanically to play scales, but
the somnolent monotony of the tones only added to her nervousness.
Later she played some of Chopin's Nocturnes, lingered over those
mysterious tones that seemed like strains from another world, full
of tears, pain, cries of anguish, and bleak despair; the radiance of
cold moonlight nights, moans like the whisper of departing souls,
the laughter of parting, the soft vibrations of subtle, sad life.

Suddenly, Janina stopped playing and burst into tears. She wept for
a long time, not knowing why she wept she who since her mother's
death had not shed a single tear.

For the first time in her life which up till now had been one
continuous struggle, revolt, and protest she felt overcome by
distress. There awakened in her an irresistible longing to share her
sorrows with someone, a longing to confide to some sympathetic heart
those bewildered thoughts and feelings, that unexplainable misery
and fear. She yearned for sympathy, feeling that her distress would
be smaller, her anguish less violent, her tears not so bitter, if
she could open her heart before some sincere woman friend.

Krenska summoned her to dinner, announcing that Grzesikiewicz was
already waiting.

She wiped away the traces of tears from her eyes, arranged her hair
and went.

Grzesikiewicz kissed her hand and seated himself beside her at the
table.

Orlowski was in a holiday humor and every now and then twitted
Janina and hurled triumphant glances at her.

Grzesikiewicz was s