“I would never have allowed her to marry Kromitzki, but how could I say a word against it, feeling as I do that I am guilty in regard to Aniela.  I was over-anxious to see you settled in life, and never considered what might be the consequences for her.  It is my fault, and consequently I suffer not a little; I pray every day for the poor child.

“After the ceremony they will immediately leave for Volhynia.  Celina remains with me for the present; she was thinking of Odessa, but I will not let her go on any account.  You know, my dear boy, how happy I am when you are with me, but do not come now to Ploszow for Aniela’s sake; if you wish to see me I will come to you, but we must spare Aniela now as much as we can.”

Why deceive myself any longer?  When I read that letter I felt as if I could ram my head against the wall,—­not in rage or jealousy but in utter anguish.

23 June.

I cannot possibly fold my hands and let things take their own way.  This marriage must not take place; it would be too monstrous.  To-day, Thursday, I have sent a telegram to Sniatynski, entreating him by all the powers to be at Cracow by Sunday.  I shall leave here to-morrow.  I asked him not to mention the telegram to anybody.  I will see him, talk to him, and beg him to see Aniela in my name.  I count much upon his influence.  Aniela respects and likes him very much.  I did not apply to my aunt, because we men understand one another better.  Sniatynski, as a psychologist, can make allowance for the phase of life I have been passing through lately.  I can tell him, too, about Laura; if I were to mention such a thing to my aunt she would cross herself as if in presence of the Evil One.  I first wanted to write to Aniela; but a letter from me would attract attention and cause a general confusion.  I know Aniela’s straight-forwardness; she would show the letter to her mother, who does not like me and might twist the words so as to suit her own schemes, and Kromitzki would help her.  Sniatynski must see Aniela alone.  His wife will help him.  I hope he will undertake the mission, though I am fully aware what a delicate task it is.  I have not slept for several nights.  When I shut my eyes I see Aniela before me,—­her face, her eyes, her smile,—­I even hear her voice.  I cannot go on like this.

CRACOW, 26 June.

Sniatynski has arrived.  He has promised to do it,—­good fellow, God bless him for it!  It is four o’clock at night, but I cannot sleep, so I sit down to write, for I can do nothing else.  We talked together, discussed and quarrelled till three o’clock.  Now he is sleeping in the adjoining room.  I could not at first persuade him to undertake the mission.  “My dear fellow,” he said, “what right have I, a stranger, to meddle in your family affairs, and such a delicate affair too?  Pana Aniela could reduce me to silence at once by saying, ’What business is it of yours?’”