After thinking it over, I remain two days more at Berlin.  It is a great sacrifice for me, because I can scarcely contain myself in my impatience; but it is necessary to send a letter to prepare her for my coming.  A telegram might alarm her, as also my sudden arrival.  I have sent off a cheerful letter, winding up with a friendly message for Aniela as if nothing ever had happened between us.  I want her to understand that I am reconciled to my fate, and that I come back the same I was before I left her.  My aunt must have counted upon my coming on receipt of her letter.

Warsaw, 6 November.

I arrived this morning.  My aunt awaited me at Warsaw.  At Ploszow things are a little better.  Aniela is much calmer.  There is no news from Kromitzki.

The poor old aunt met me with a horrified exclamation,—­“Leon, whatever has happened to you?” She did not know I had been so ill, and protracted illness alters one’s appearance; and my hair has grown quite gray on the temples.  I even thought of darkening it artificially.  I do not want to look old now.  My aunt, too, had changed very much, and although it is not so long since we parted, I found a great difference in her appearance.  Her face has lost its familiar determined expression, though her features have grown more immovable.  I noticed that her head is trembling a little, especially when she is listening with deep attention.  When with some inward trouble I inquired after her health, she said, with her usual frankness, “After my return from Gastein I felt very well; but now everything seems to go wrong, and I feel that my time is coming.  We Ploszowskis all end with paralysis; and I feel a numbness in my arm every morning.  But it is not worth talking about; it will be as God ordains.”

She would not say anything more.  Instead of that we took counsel together how to help Kromitzki, and we resolved not to let it come to a criminal prosecution if we could help it.  We could not save him from ruin, as this would have involved our own ruin, which, if only in consideration for Aniela, we must avoid.  I made a proposition to settle Kromitzki here, by giving him one of the larger farms.  God knows how my mind recoiled from, the very thought of his being always with Aniela, but to make my sacrifice complete I had made up my mind to swallow the bitter draught.

My aunt offers one of her farms, and I am furnishing the necessary capital to establish him, which, taken together, will be Aniela’s dowry.  Kromitzki will have to pass his word not to embark in further speculation.  But before that can be done we must get him free, and for that purpose we are going to send out an able lawyer with instructions and ample means.