“Yes, but—­” began Aniela.

Kromitzki came up, and hearing what was the matter, said sharply:  “Please do not raise any difficulties.”  And Aniela, without saying a word, took her seat in the carriage.

In spite of my emotion I was struck by Kromitzki’s tone of voice and Aniela’s silent obedience,—­all the more as I had already noticed that his manners towards her during the day had been those of a man who is displeased.  There was evidently the same reason, of which I knew nothing, at the bottom of this, and of the estrangement some time ago.  But there was no room now for these reflections; the fresh memory of the kiss I had imprinted on her feet still overpowered my senses.  I felt a great delight and joy, not unmixed with fear.  I could account for the delight because I felt it every time I only touched her hand.  But why the joy?  Because I saw that the immaculate Aniela could not escape from me altogether, and must needs confess to herself:  “I am on the downward path too, and cannot look people in the face; he was at my feet a moment ago, the man who loves me, and I am obliged to be his accomplice and cannot go to my husband and tell him to take me hence.”  I knew she could not do this without creating a commotion; and if she could, she would not do it, for fear of an encounter between me and Kromitzki,—­“And who knows for whom she is most afraid?” something within me whispered.

Aniela’s position is indeed a difficult one, and I, knowing this, take advantage of it without more scruples than are admitted by a general in time of war who attacks the enemy at his weakest point.  I asked myself whether I would do the same if Kromitzki would make me personally responsible; and as I could conscientiously say “Yes,” I thought there was no need for any further consideration.  Kromitzki inspires me with fear only in so far as he has power to remove Aniela and put her out of my reach altogether.  The very thought makes me desperate.  But at this moment, in the carriage, I only feared Aniela.  What will happen to-morrow?  How will she take it?  As a liberty, or as a mere impulse of respect and worship?

I felt as a dog may feel that has done wrong and is afraid of being whipped.  Sitting opposite Aniela, I tried at moments when the moon shone on her face to read there what was to be my sentence.  I looked at her so humbly and was so meek that I pitied myself, and thought she too ought to pity me a little.  But she did not look at me at all, and listened or seemed to listen attentively to what Kromitzki was telling my aunt he would do if Gastein belonged to him.  My aunt only nodded, and he repeated every moment:  “Now, really, don’t you think I am right?” It is evident that he wants to impress my aunt with his enterprising spirit, and to convince her that he is capable of making a shilling out of every penny.