2 July.

I deluded myself as to my state of quiescence.  It was only a temporary torpidity of the nerves, which I mistook for calmness.  Besides, I knew it could not last.

3 July.

Yes, something has passed between them.  They hide some mutual offence, but I see it.  For some days I have noticed that he does not take her hands, as he used to and kiss them in turn; he does not stroke her hair or kiss her forehead.  I had a moment of real joy, but Aniela herself poisoned it.  I see that she tries to conciliate and humor him as if wishing to restore their former relations.  At the sight of this a great rage possessed me, and showed itself in my behavior to Aniela.  Never had I been so pitiless to her and myself.

4 July.

To-day, returning from the Wandelbahn, I met Aniela on the bridge opposite the Cascades.  She stopped suddenly and said something, but the roar of the water drowned her voice.  This irritated me, for at present everything irritates me.  Whereupon, leading her across the bridge towards our villa, I said impatiently:  “I could not hear what you were saying.”

“I wanted to ask you,” she said, with emotion, “why you are so different to me now?  Why have you no pity upon me?”

All my blood rushed to my heart at these words.

“Can you not see,” I said quickly, “that I love you more than words can tell? and you treat it as if it were a mere nothing.  Listen!  I do not want anything from you.  Only tell me that you love me, surrender your heart to me, and I will bear anything, suffer anything, and will give my whole life to you and serve you to the last breath.  Aniela, you love me!  Tell me, is it not true?  You will save me by that one word; say it!”

Aniela had grown as pale as the foam on the cascade.  It seemed as if she had turned to ice.  For a moment she could not utter a word; then making a great effort, she replied:—­

“You must not speak to me in that way.”

“Then you will never say it?”

“Never!”

“Then you have not the least—­” I broke off.  It suddenly whirled across my brain that if Kromitzki asked her, she would not refuse him; and at this thought rage and despair deprived me of all consciousness.  I heard the rushing of waters in my ear, and everything grew dark before my eyes.  I only remember that I hurled a few horrible, cynical words at her, such as no man should use against a defenceless woman, and which I dare not put down in this diary.  I remember as in a dream that she looked at me with dilated eyes, took me by the sleeve, then shook my shoulder, and said, anxiously:—­

“Leon, what is the matter with you,—­what ails you?”