"I thank you for the last news,--all the more as that first letter
from Peli was not only conclusive, but also very cruel. I could
scarcely believe that you had not only no affection for the girl, but
also neither friendship nor compassion. My dear Leon, I never asked
nor advised you to become engaged to Aniela at once,--I only wanted
you to write a few kindly words, not to her directly, but in a letter
to me. And believe me, it would have been sufficient; for she
loved you as only girls like her can love. Put yourself in my
position,--what could I do after having received your letter? How
could I conscientiously allow her to remain in her illusion, and at
the same time in that anxiety that evidently undermined her health?
Chwastowski always sends a special messenger for papers and letters,
and brings them himself when he comes to breakfast. Aniela saw there
was a letter from you, because the poor child was always on the
lookout for Chwastowski, and took the letters from him under pretext
that she wanted to put them under my napkin; and the real reason was
that she might see whether there was a letter from you. I noticed how
her hands trembled when she poured out the tea. Touched by a sudden
foreboding, I hesitated whether to put off the reading of your letter
until I had gone into my room; but I was anxious about your health,
and could not wait. God knows what it cost me not to show what I felt,
especially as Aniela's eyes were fixed upon my face. But I got a firm
grip of myself, and even managed to say: 'Leon is still sorrowing,
but, thank God! his health is all right, and he sends you kind
messages.' Aniela inquired, as it were in her usual voice, 'Is he
going to remain long in Italy?' I saw how much the question meant
to her, and had not the heart to undeceive her then,--especially as
Chwastowski and the servants were there; so I said merely: 'No, not
very long; I believe he will soon come to see us.' If you had seen the
flame that shot up in her face, the sudden joy that kindled her eyes,
and the effort she made not to burst into tears. Poor child! I feel
inclined to cry every time I think of it. What I went through in the
solitude of my own room, you cannot imagine; but you wrote distinctly,
'I wish her happiness with Kromitzki;' it was duty, my conscience told
me, to open her eyes. There was no need to send for her,--she came
herself. I said to her, 'Aniela, dear, you are a good girl, and a girl
that submits to God's will. We must be open with each other. I have
seen the affection that was springing up between you and Leon. It was
my dearest wish you might come to love each other; but evidently the
Lord willed it otherwise. If you have still any illusions, you must
try to get rid of them.' I took her into my arms; for she had grown
deadly white, and I was afraid she might faint. But she did not lose
consciousness, but hid her head on my knees and said over and over
again: 'What message did he send me?' I did not want to tell her, but
then it struck me it might be better for her if she knew the whole
truth; and I told her you wished her happiness with Kromitzki. She
rose, and after a moment said, in a quite changed voice: 'Thank him
for me, aunty!' and then left the room. I am afraid you will not thank
me for repeating to her your very words, without disguising them under
any kind expressions; but since you do not want Aniela, the more
plainly she is told about it the better. Convinced that you treated
her badly, she may forget you all the sooner. Besides, if it give
you pain, remember how much pain and anxiety you have caused
us,--especially Aniela. Yet she has more control over herself than I
even expected. Her eyes were quite dry the whole day, and she gave
no sign of inward trouble; she is anxious to spare her mother, about
whose health she is much concerned; she only clung more to her and
to me,--which moved me so deeply that it made my chin tremble. Pan
Sniatynski, who came to see us the same day, did not notice anything
unusual in Aniela. Knowing he is in your confidence, I told him all
about it; and he was dreadfully shocked, and got into such a rage with
you that it made me quite angry with him. I need not repeat what
he said,--you know his ways. You, who do not love Aniela, cannot
understand how happy you might have been with her; but you have done
wrong, Leon, in making her believe you loved her. Not only she,--we
all thought the same; and that is where the sting lies. Only God
knows how much she suffered; and it was this that made her accept
Kromitzki,--it was done out of despair. She must have had a long talk
with her mother, and then it was decided. When Kromitzki arrived the
day after, she treated him differently; and a week later they were
engaged. Pan Sniatynski heard about it only a few days ago, and he was
tearing his hair; and as to my own feelings, I will not even try to
put them into words.
"I was more angry with you than I have ever been in my life with
anybody, and only your second letter has pacified me a little, though
it convinced me at the same time of the futility of my dreams. I
confess that after the first letter, and before Kromitzki had finally
proposed, I still thought: 'Perhaps God will be good to us and change
his heart; maybe he has written thus in a fit of auger!' but when
afterwards you sent kind messages to Aniela without denying or
contradicting what you had written in the first letter, I saw it was
of no use deceiving myself any longer. Aniela's wedding is to take
place on the 25th of July, and I will tell you why they have fixed
upon such a short date. Celina is really very ill, thinks she will
soon die, and is afraid her death might delay the marriage, and thus
leave Aniela without a protector. Kromitzki is in a hurry because he
has his business to attend to in the East; lastly, Aniela wishes to
drain the cup with as little delay as possible. Ah! Leon, my boy,
why should all this have happened, and why is that poor child made
unhappy?
"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.