Aniela did not know what to say.  The words were those of a man in love; but the tone was so playful and jesting that she could not possibly receive them in a tragic spirit.

I was glad I had discovered a way by which I could convey a deeper meaning without absolutely frightening her.  But I did not take too much advantage of it, and presently, in a more serious tone, began telling her about the projected changes in the house.

“The whole story is to be given up to the collections, with the exception of the room in which you lived last winter.  This remains as it was.  I have only permitted myself to adorn it a little for your reception.”

Saying this I led her to the door.  Standing on the threshold she exclaimed with astonishment:—­

“Oh, what lovely flowers!”

I said in a low voice:—­

“And you the most lovely among them!”

Then added, earnestly:—­

“You believe me, Aniela, if I tell you that it is in this room I wish to die some day!”

Oh, how much sincerity there was in these words.  Aniela’s face grew misty; all the radiance had gone.  I saw that my words had touched a chord, as all words do that come from the depth of the soul.  For a moment her whole body swayed as if some inward power pushed her towards me.  But she resisted still.  She stood before me, her eyes veiled by the long lashes, and said, with mournful dignity:—­

“Let me be at ease with you, Leon; do not sadden me.”

“Very well, Aniela; I will not say anything more; here is my hand upon it.”

I gave her my hand, and she pressed it warmly, as if by that pressure she wanted to say all she forbade her lips to utter.  It indemnified me for all I had suffered, and almost made me stagger on my feet.  For the first time I felt distinctly that I was taking for my own this being,—­body and soul.  It was a sensation of such immeasurable happiness as to cause me almost pain.  New, unknown worlds began to open for me.  From this moment I grew quite convinced that her resistance was only a question of time.

My aunt returned from the stables in excellent humor; no attempt had been made upon Naughty Boy’s precious health.  The trainer, Webb, to all inquiries, had the same answer,—­“All right.”  Jack Goose was animated by the boldest spirit.  We went to the window to see the future conquerors come from the stables; for it was time they went to the Mokotoff Field, there to pace around until their turn arrived.  A few minutes later we saw the grooms leading them into the yard, encased from top to bottom as in a pillow-slip.  Only the soft eyes were visible through the slit; and from below, the shapely feet that seemed wrought in steel.  They were followed by Webb and our little home-bred Englishman, Jack Goose, in a new overcoat, which concealed his silks and jockey-boots.  I called out to him through the open window:—­

“Mind, and don’t get beaten, Kuba!”