To-day, returning from the Wandelbahn, I met Aniela on the bridge
opposite the Cascades. She stopped suddenly and said something, but
the roar of the water drowned her voice. This irritated me, for at
present everything irritates me. Whereupon, leading her across the
bridge towards our villa, I said impatiently: "I could not hear what
you were saying."
"I wanted to ask you," she said, with emotion, "why you are so
different to me now? Why have you no pity upon me?"
All my blood rushed to my heart at these words.
"Can you not see," I said quickly, "that I love you more than words
can tell? and you treat it as if it were a mere nothing. Listen! I do
not want anything from you. Only tell me that you love me, surrender
your heart to me, and I will bear anything, suffer anything, and will
give my whole life to you and serve you to the last breath. Aniela,
you love me! Tell me, is it not true? You will save me by that one
word; say it!"
Aniela had grown as pale as the foam on the cascade. It seemed as if
she had turned to ice. For a moment she could not utter a word; then
making a great effort, she replied:--
"You must not speak to me in that way."
"Then you will never say it?"
"Never!"
"Then you have not the least--" I broke off. It suddenly whirled
across my brain that if Kromitzki asked her, she would not refuse him;
and at this thought rage and despair deprived me of all consciousness.
I heard the rushing of waters in my ear, and everything grew dark
before my eyes. I only remember that I hurled a few horrible, cynical
words at her, such as no man should use against a defenceless woman,
and which I dare not put down in this diary. I remember as in a dream
that she looked at me with dilated eyes, took me by the sleeve, then
shook my shoulder, and said, anxiously:--
"Leon, what is the matter with you,--what ails you?"
What ailed me was that I was losing my senses. I tore my hand away and
rushed off in the opposite direction. After a moment I retraced my
steps; but she was gone. Then I understood only one thing: the time
had come to put an end to life. The thought seemed to me like a rift
in the dark clouds that weighed upon me. It was a strange state of
consciousness, in one direction. For the moment all thoughts about
myself, about Aniela, were wiped from my memory; but I contemplated
the thought of death with the greatest self-possession. I knew, for
instance, perfectly well that if I threw myself from the rocks it
would be considered an accident, and if I shot myself in my own room
my aunt would not survive the shock. It was still stranger that, in
spite of this consciousness, I did not feel called upon to make any
choice, as if the connection between my reasoning and my will and
its consequent action had been severed. With a perfectly clear
understanding that it would be better to throw myself from the rocks,
I yet went back to the villa for my revolver. Why? I cannot explain
it. I only remember that I ran faster and faster, at last went up
the stairs into my room, and began to search for the key of my
portmanteau, where the revolver was. Presently I heard steps
approaching my door. This roused me, and the thought flashed through
my mind that it was Aniela, that she had guessed my intention, and
came to prevent it. The door was flung open, and there was my aunt,
who called out in a breathless voice:--
"Leon, go quick for the doctor! Aniela has been taken ill."
Hearing that, I forgot all else, and without hat I rushed forth, and
in a quarter of an hour brought a doctor from the Straubinger hotel.
The doctor went to see Aniela, and I remained with my aunt on the
veranda. I asked her what had happened to Aniela.
"Half an hour ago," said my aunt, "Aniela came back with such a
feverishly burning face that both Celina and I asked whether anything
had happened to her. She replied, 'Nothing, nothing,' almost
impatiently; and when Celina insisted upon knowing what was the matter
with her, Aniela, for the first time since I have known her, lost her
temper and cried out, 'Why are you all bent upon tormenting me?' Then
she became quite hysterical, and laughed and cried. We were terribly
frightened, and then I came and asked you to fetch the doctor. Thank
God, she is calmer now. How she wept, poor child, and asked us to
forgive her for having spoken unkindly to us."