My whole day was poisoned, for Aniela has received another letter from
Kromitzki. I heard her telling my aunt that he does not know himself
when he will be able to return,--may be shortly, or it may be two
months hence. I cannot even imagine how I shall be able to bear his
presence near Aniela. At times it seems that I simply could not bear
it. I count upon some lucky chance that will prevent his coming back.
Chwastowski says Pani Celina ought to go to Gastein as soon as she can
bear the journey. Gastein is such a distance from Baku that it may be
too far for Kromitzki to go. I shall go there as sure as there is a
heaven above us. It is a happy thought of Chwastowski's; the baths
will do us all much good. I too feel fagged and in want of bracing
mountain air, and still more in want of being near Aniela. To-morrow I
shall go to Warsaw, and send a telegram to the manager of the bathing
establishment to secure rooms for the ladies. If no rooms are to be
had, I am ready to buy a villa. When Pani Celina spoke of the trouble
and difficulties it would give Aniela were she to go there, I only
said: "Leave it all to me;" and then, in a lower voice, to Aniela: "I
will take care of her as if she were my own mother." I saw that Pani
Celina, who believes less and less in Kromitzki's millions, was afraid
I might arrange things on too expensive a scale; but I have already
settled it in my mind to show her a fictitious agreement, and take the
greater part of the expenses upon myself. Of course, I never mentioned
that I intended going there myself. I will arrange it so that the
proposal shall come from my aunt. I am quite sure that, as soon as I
unfold my plans of going somewhere in the hills to recruit my health,
the good soul will fall into the trap, and say: "Why not go with them?
it will be more comfortable for all of you." I know it will frighten
Aniela, and in the most secret recess of her heart please her a
little. Maybe it will remind her of the poet's line, "You are
everywhere: above me, around me, and within me." Then truly, my love
will surround her as with an enchanted circle, enter her heart in the
guise of thoughtfulness towards the mother,--in the guise of little
services she cannot refuse without exciting her mother's suspicions;
all this will gradually sink into her heart, in the guise of gratitude
and pity for my sufferings, will thrust itself upon her with all the
force of old memories.
She hears my praises sung by everybody: by my aunt, who loves me
blindly as she always did; by young Chwastowski, who, to show the
impartiality people of his opinions are capable of, maintains I am an
exception in the "rotten sphere." I have even won over Pani Celina
by my attentions; she likes me now, and involuntarily, I dare say,
regrets that I am not Aniela's husband. All around Aniela there is one
great suggestion of love.
And you, dearest, are you going to resist all these powers? When will
you come and tell me: "I cannot hold out any longer; take me,--I love
you"?
Warsaw, 31 May.
Pani L., the patroness of a charitable institution, asked Clara to
give another concert for the benefit of the destitute. Clara refused
on the plea that she is busy upon a great musical work that engages
all her attention. The letter,--a very pattern of polite refusal,--was
accompanied by exactly the same sum of money the first concert had
brought in. It is easy to imagine what a sensation this act of
generosity made in Warsaw. The papers were full of it, raising the
musician and her generosity to the sky. Naturally, her private means,
which are considerable, gained in dimensions. I do not know how
society came to couple our names; perhaps, our acquaintance, dating
from a long time, our intimacy, and the exaggerated news of her wealth
gave rise to the rumor. I was at first a little angry on hearing this;
but upon maturer reflection, resolved not to give any direct denial,
because this puts my attentions towards Aniela beyond all suspicion.
When I went to Clara's morning reception, Pani Korytzka came up to me,
and, with that witty, aggressive air of hers, asked me in presence of
some dozen people from the musical world and Warsaw society, in an
audible voice,--
"Tell me, cousin, who was that mythological person that could not
resist the Siren?"
"Nobody resisted, _ma cousine_, except Ulysses; and he only because he
was tied to the mast."
"And why have you not taken these precautions?"
I saw some covert smiles lurking in the faces of those who witnessed
the attack, and I retorted,--
"Sometimes even that is of no use. You know that love sunders the
strongest ties."
In spite of all her self-possession, Pani Korytzka grew confused,
and I gained one of those tiny victories which are comprised in the
proverb, "The scythe hit upon a stone," or in plain English, "The
biter bit."
Whether people repeat to each other that I am going to marry Clara or
not, does not trouble me in the least; in fact, for the above stated
reason I do not mind it at all; but I did not expect that this visit
would turn out so unpleasant, and Clara herself be the cause of it.
When all the people had left, and only Sniatynski and I remained, she
sat down to the piano, and played her new concerto,--played it so
magnificently that we could not find words to express our admiration;
repeating at our request the finale, she said, suddenly,--
"This is my farewell, because everything comes to a finale."
"Surely you are not thinking of leaving us?" asked Sniatynski.
"Yes, in ten days at the furthest I must be at Frankfurt," replied
Clara.