ke hers wants love, as her body
wants air to breathe. Kromitzki, occupied with speculations, does not
love her enough, perhaps does not know what love means. She might
rightly say with Shakspeare, "Poor Tom's acold." When I think of this
my heart is stirred, and I make a silent vow that she shall never feel
cold as long as I live.

If our love were wrong there could not be within us such peace. That
Aniela does not call it by its proper name means nothing; it is there
all the same. The whole day passed for us like an idyl. Formerly I
disliked Sundays; now I find that a Sunday, from morning until night,
may be like a poem, especially in the country. Soon after breakfast,
we went to church in time for the early mass. My aunt followed in our
rear; even Pani Celina, profiting by the fine weather, was wheeled
thither in her Bath chair. There were not many people in church, as
most of them go later for high mass. Sitting on the bench by Aniela's
side, I had the blissful illusion that I was sitting with my affianced
wife. From time to time I looked at the sweet, dear profile, at the
hands which were resting on the desk before her, and the concentration
in her face and bearing gradually infected me. My senses went to
sleep, my thoughts became purer, and I loved her at that moment with
an ideal love, because I felt more than ever how different she was
from any other woman, how infinitely better and purer.

For a long time I had not felt anything like what I felt in this quiet
village church. Added to Aniela's presence there was the impressive
dignity of the church itself, the soft, flickering light of the
candles in the dim recess of the altar, shafts of colored light coming
through the windows, the chirping sparrows, and the still mass.
All this, with the dreaminess of an early morning, had something
unutterably soothing. My thoughts began to flow as evenly as the
incense at the altar. Nobler feelings stirred within me, and a desire
to sacrifice my own self. An inward voice began to remonstrate:--

"Do not disturb that transparent water; respect its purity."

When the mass came to an end, and we left the church, I saw, to my
greatest amazement, both the Latyszes crouching near the church gate,
with wooden plates in their hands, asking for alms. My aunt, who knew
about my gift, grew very angry upon seeing them there, and began to
abuse them roundly. But the old woman, still holding out her wooden
plate, and not at all abashe