Perhaps he is right, but my heart quakes with terror.  Everything has its limits, and so has human courage There is something within me that protests desperately against this, and I am afraid of the voice which says, “No.”

The ladies have almost made up their minds to tell her to-morrow.  I will have nothing to do with it.  I had no idea one could be afraid to such an extent.  But it is a question concerning her.

16 November.

All was well until evening, when suddenly hemorrhage set in.  And I had said no!  It is three o’clock at night.  She has fallen asleep.  The doctor is with her.  I must be calm—­I must.  It is necessary for her that somebody in the house should preserve his presence of mind—­I must.

17 November

The doctor says that the first phase of illness is progressing according to rules.  What does that mean?  Does it mean that she will die?  The fever is not very great.  This seems to be always so the first two days.  She is quite conscious, feels out of sorts and very weak, but suffers little.  The doctor prepared us to expect that the fever would increase gradually up to forty degrees; there will be great pains, sickness, and swelling of the feet—­that is what he promises!

Let there be at once also the end of the world!  O God! if that is to be my punishment, I swear I will go away, never to see her again in life,—­only save her!

18 November.

I have not seen her.  I sit at her door almost bereft of my senses; but I do not go in, because I am afraid that the sight of me will make her worse and increase the fever.  At times a horrible idea crosses my mind that I am going mad and might kill Aniela in a fit of insanity.  That is the reason I force myself to write, for it seems to me that it is the best way of keeping my senses under control.

19 November.

I heard her voice and her moans through the door.  In that illness the suffering is terrible.  According to the doctor it is the usual sign, but to me it seems blind cruelty!  My aunt says she clings round her neck and her mother’s and asks them for help.  And nothing can be done, nothing!  Continual sickness, the pains are increasing, the feet are quite swollen.  The doctor says nothing, but that it may turn out all right, or may end badly.  I know that without him!  The fever is at forty degrees.  She is always conscious.

20 November.

I know it now.  Nobody told me, but I know for certain that she is going to die.  I have all my senses under control, I am even calm.  Aniela will die!  Last night, sitting at her door, I saw it as clearly as I now see the sunlight.  A man in a certain condition of mind sees things which other people with less concentrated minds cannot see.  Towards morning something passed within me which made me see how it would end; it was as if a veil had been torn from my eyes and brain.  Nothing now can save Aniela.  I know it better than all the doctors.