And so we did.  After having said good-by to our charming visitors, we went slowly homeward.  It was already dusk; in the dim light I could still see Aniela’s face.  She seemed moved, perhaps had opened her heart to Pani Sniatynska, and even now hoped for the long deferred word.  It was almost burning on my tongue; but, oh, wonder!  I who never yet had lost all my self-possession, I who was used to play upon heartstrings, who at a fencing match of that kind, if not cleverly, at least with perfect composure guarded myself against the most masterly strokes, I was as deeply moved as a lad in his teens.  What a difference from former sentiments.  I was afraid I could not find words to express myself,—­and remained silent.

Thus in silence we approached the veranda.  The snow was slippery; I offered her my arm, and when she leaned on it I felt how all my desires were centred in her.  The feeling grew so intense that it thrilled my nerves like electric sparks.  We entered the hall.  There was nobody there; not even the lamps were lit, the only light came in fitful gleams from the open stoves.  In this half-light and in silence I began to relieve Aniela of her furs, when suddenly the warmth emanating from her body seemed to enter into my veins; I put my arm around her, and drawing her close to me I pressed my lips on her brow.

It was done almost unconsciously, and Aniela must have been greatly startled, for she made not the slightest resistance.  Presently a footstep became audible; it was the servant with the lamps.  She went upstairs, and I, deeply moved, entered the dining-room.

To every man who is ever so little enterprising, similar events occur in the course of life.  I am no exception, but, as a rule, I always kept the mastery over myself.  Now it was different.  Thoughts and sensations whirled across my brain like leaves before a gale.  Fortunately the dining-room was empty; my aunt and Aniela’s mother were in the drawing-room, where I joined them after a while.  My thoughts were so far away that I scarcely heard what they were saying to me.  I felt restless.  I seemed to see Aniela sitting in her room, pressing her hands to her temples, trying to realize what it all meant.  Soon Aniela herself came down.  I felt relieved, as I had feared she might not come down again for the evening.  She had two burning spots on either side of her face, and eyes bright as if from recent slumber.  She had tried to cool her face with powder; I saw the traces on her left temple.  The sight of her moved me; I felt that I loved her deeply.

Presently she stooped over some needlework.  I saw that her breath came and went irregularly, and once or twice I intercepted a quick glance full of unsettled questions and trouble.

In order to set her mind at rest I thrust myself into the conversation of the elder ladies, who were speaking about Sniatynski, and said:—­

“Sniatynski considers me a kind of Hamlet, and says I philosophize too much; but I am going to show him that he is mistaken, and that not later than to-morrow.”