ttracts me more than I can tell,--for in its very nature
there is no limit, either in itself or for the human mind; it is
infinite.

We reached at last the end, where our guests mounted into the
carriage. Presently the wheels rattled on the road, the last good-bys
reached our ears, and I was alone with Aniela. We turned homewards,
and for some time walked side by side in silence. The croaking of
the frogs has ceased, and from the distance came the sound of the
watchman's whistle and the loud baying of the dogs. I did not speak to
Aniela, because the silence seemed fraught with deep meaning,--both
our minds being full of the same subject. When about half-way I said
to Aniela,--

"What a pleasant day it has been, has it not?"

"Yes. I never heard such beautiful music before."

"And yet you seemed not in your usual spirits, and though you will not
tell me the cause, I notice every passing cloud on your face."

"You were obliged to look after your guests. You are very kind to
trouble about me, but there is nothing the matter with me."

"To-day as any other day I was occupied with you only, and as a proof
of it let me tell you of what you were thinking to-day." And without
waiting for permission, I went on at once: "You thought I resembled
somewhat the Latysz couple; you thought I had deceived you in speaking
of the void around me; lastly, you thought that I had no need to ask
for your friendship while I was seeking friendship elsewhere. Was it
not so? Tell me the truth."

Aniela replied with evident effort: "If you insist upon knowing--yes,
perhaps it is so. But I ought to be only glad of it."

"What ought you be glad of?"

"Of your mutual friendship with Clara."

"As to our friendship,--I wish her well, that is all. But Clara, like
all other women, is indifferent to me. Do you know why?"

I began to tremble a little, because I perceived that the moment
had come. I waited a moment to see whether Aniela would take up my
question, and then, in a voice I tried to render steady, I said,--

"Surely you must see and understand that my whole being belongs to
you; that I loved you and love you still madly."

Aniela stood still as if turned to stone. By the icy coldness of my
face I felt that I was growing pale; and if the world seemed to totter
under that poor child's feet, it was my life, too, which was at stake.
Knowing with whom I had to deal, I did not give her time to repulse
me. I began to speak very quickly:-