A whole budget of events. I do not know where to begin, as the last
sensations are the uppermost. Never yet had I such convincing proofs
that she cares for me. It will cost me no small effort to put
everything down in proper order. I am now almost sure Aniela will
agree to the conditions I am going to propose to her. My head is still
in a whirl; but I will try to start from the beginning.
I have been in Vienna and brought some news I am going to discuss with
my aunt. I have seen Chwastowski. What a fine fellow he is!--works at
the hospitals, is busy upon a series of hygienic articles his brother
is to publish in three-penny booklets for the people, belongs to
several medical and non-medical associations, and still finds time for
various gay entertainments on the Kaerthner Strasse. I do not know
when he finds time to sleep. And the fellow looks like a giant from a
fair. What an exuberance of life!--he seems literally brimming over
with life. I told him without any preliminaries what had brought me to
Vienna.
"I do not know," I said, "whether you are aware that my aunt and I
possess considerable capital. We are not obliged to speculate, but
if we could invest our money in some enterprise where it would bring
profit, the profit would be so much gain for the country. I suppose if
at the same time we could render a service to Pan Kromitzki it would
be a two-fold gain. Between ourselves, he is personally indifferent to
us, but he is by his marriage connected with our family. We should be
glad to help him provided we can do so without running any risk."
"And you would like to know how he stands in his affairs, sir?"
"Yes, I should. He seems very sanguine in his hopes, and no doubt
believes himself to be right. The question is whether he does not
delude himself. Therefore if your brother has written you anything
without binding you to secrecy I should like to know what he says. You
might also ask him to give me an exact statement as to their business
transactions. My aunt relies upon you, considering that the relations
which connect us with your family are of a much older standing than
those connecting her with Kromitzki."
"All right; I will let my brother know about it. He mentioned
something in one of his letters, but as it does not interest me very
much I did not take notice of it at the time."
Saying this, he began to search in his desk among his papers, where
he found it easily and then read aloud: "'I am heartily tired of the
place. No women here worth talking about, and not a pretty one in the
whole lot.'" He laughed. "No, that's not what I wanted. He would like
to be in Vienna." Turning over a page he handed it to me, but I found
only these few lines:--
"As to Kromitzki, his speculation in oil has turned out a failure.
With the Rothschilds a struggle is impossible, and he went against
them. We had to get out of it as well as we could, but lost a deal
of money. We have got a monopoly in the contract business; there are
immense profits to be made, but there is also a considerable risk. It
all depends upon the honesty of the people we deal with. We treat them
fairly and trust to luck. But money is wanted, because the government
pays us at stated terms, and we have to pay money down, and besides
that, often receive bad material. I have to look at present after
everything myself."
"We will furnish the money," I said, when I had finished reading.
On the way back to Gastein I thought it over and my better instincts
prevailed. "Let the future take care of itself," I thought; and in
the mean while would it not be more simple and more honest to help
Kromitzki instead of ruining him? Aniela would appreciate such an act,
and my disinterestedness would win her approval; and as to the future,
let Providence decide about that.
But would it be an act of disinterestedness on my part? Reflecting
upon it, I found that my own selfish views had a great deal to do with
it. Thus I foresaw that Kromitzki, getting hold of the money, would
leave Gastein immediately and release me from the torments his
presence near Aniela gives me. Aniela would remain alone, surrounded
by my devotion, with gratitude in her heart for me, resentment or even
indignation towards Kromitzki because he had availed himself of my
offer. I seemed to see new horizons opening before me. But above all,
and at whatever cost, I wanted to get free of Kromitzki's presence.
I thought so much of my future relation to Aniela that I arrived
at Lend-Gastein before I was aware of it. At Lend I found a great
commotion. A railway accident had happened on the branch line of Zell
am See, and the place was full of wounded people; but scarcely had
I taken my seat in the carriage when the impression the killed and
wounded had made upon me gave way to the thoughts that occupied me so
exclusively. I saw clearly that some change must take place in our
relation, that the present state could not be prolonged indefinitely
without doing mischief to both of us and bringing us both to such a
pass that it would be better for me to roll down the precipice there
and then and make an end of it at once.
Aniela, though she does not yield in the least, must needs be
distracted in her mind by the continual presence of that forbidden
love. It is true she does not give me any encouragement, but now and
then I kiss her hands, her feet; she is compelled to listen to words
of love, obliged to have secrets from her husband and her mother, and
always control herself and me lest I might overstep the boundary. Life
under such conditions becomes unbearable to us both. It must undergo
some change. At last I had found, I thought, a solution of the
problem. Let Aniela frankly admit that she loves me, and say to me:
"I am yours heart and soul, and will be yours forever; but let that
satisfy you. If you agree to that our souls henceforth will be as
one and belong to each other forever." And I bound myself to her. I
fancied I was taking her hand and saying: "I take you thus and promise
not to seek for anything more, promise that our relations will remain
purely spiritual, but as binding as those of husband and wife."
Is such an agreement feasible, and will it put an end to our sorrow?
For me it is a renunciation of all my hopes and desires, but it
creates for me a new world in which Aniela will be mine. Besides that,
it will make our love a legitimate right; and I would give my very
health if Aniela would agree to it. I see in this another proof of the
earnestness of my love, and how I wish her to be mine; I am ready to
pay any price, accept any restrictions, provided she acknowledges her
love.
I began to think intently whether she would agree. And it seemed to me
she would. I heard myself speaking to her in a persuasive, irrefutable
manner:--
"Since you really love me, what difference can it make to you if you
tell me so with your own lips? What can there be nobler, holier than
the love I ask you for? I have surrendered to you my whole life,
because I could not do otherwise. Ask your own conscience, and it
will tell you that you ought to do this much for me. It is the same
relation as Beatrice's to Dante. Angels love each other in that way.
You will be near me, as near as one soul can be to another, and yet as
distant as if you dwelt on the highest of heights. That it is a
love above all earthly loves is all the more a reason for your not
rejecting it; carried on the wings of such a love your soul will
remain pure; it will save me and bring peace and happiness to both of
us."
I felt within me a boundless wealth of this almost mystic love, and a
belief that this earthly chrysalis would come forth in another world a
butterfly, which, detached from all earthly conditions would soar from
planet to planet, till it became united to the spirit of All-Life. For
the first time the thought crossed my mind that Aniela and I may pass
away as bodies, but our love will survive and even be our immortality.
"Who knows," I thought, "whether this be not the only existing form
of immortality?"--because I felt distinctly that there is something
everlasting in my feeling, quite distinct from the ever changing
phenomena of life. A man must love very deeply to be capable of such
feelings and visions; he must be very unhappy, and perhaps close on
the brink of insanity. I am not yet on that brink, but I am close upon
mysticism, and never so happy as when I thus lose myself and scatter
my own self, so that I have some difficulty in finding it again. I
fully understand why this is the case. My dualism, my inward criticism
shattered all the foundations of my life, together with the happiness
these foundations would have given me. In those lands where, instead
of syllogisms, visions and dim consciousness reign paramount,
criticism finds no room; and this solution gives me rest and relief.
Thus I rested when I drew near Gastein. I saw myself and Aniela wedded
spiritually and at peace. I had the proud consciousness that I had
found a way out of the enchanted circle and into happiness. I was
certain Aniela would give me her hand, and thus together we would
begin a new life.
Suddenly I started as if waking from a dream, and saw that my hand was
covered with blood. It appeared that the same vehicle I was travelling
in had been used to transport some of the injured victims of the
railway disaster. There was a deal of blood at one side of the seat,
which the driver had not noticed or had forgotten to wipe off. My
mysticism does not go so far as to create belief in the intervention
of mysterious powers through omens, signs, or predictions. Yet, though
not superstitious myself, I am able to enter the train of thought of a
superstitious man, and consequently observe the singular coincidence
of this fact. It seemed to me strange that in the carriage where I
dreamed about the beginning of a new life some other life had perhaps
breathed its last; also that with bloodstained hands I had been
thinking of peace and happiness.
Coincidences like these more or less influence nervous persons, not by
filling them with presentiments, but rather by throwing a dark shadow
upon all their thoughts. Undoubtedly mine would have travelled in that
direction had I not been close upon Wildbad. Slowly crawling up the
hill I saw another carriage coming down at an unusual speed. "There
will be another collision," I thought, as on the steep road it is very
difficult for two carriages to pass each other. But at the same moment
the driver of the vehicle put on the brake with all his strength, and
the horses went at a slow pace. Suddenly, to my great astonishment, I
recognized in the inmates of the carriage my aunt and Aniela. They,
too, had caught sight of me; and Aniela cried out:--
"It is he! Leon! Leon!"
In an instant I was at their side. My aunt fell upon my neck, and
repeated, "God has been good to us!" and breathed as rapidly as if she
had been running all the way from Wildbad. Aniela had clutched my hand
and held it fast; then all at once a terrible fear shone in her face,
and she cried out:--
"You are wounded?"