We went in the morning on the Windischgrätzhöhe. It is about three
quarters of an hour on foot, but I got a horse for Aniela, which I led
by the bridle. Walking at her side, I rested my hand on the horse's
neck and at the same time touched her dress. Mounting on the horse's
back, she held on to me for a moment and the old Adam woke up very
strong in me. To kill him, I should have to annihilate my body and
become a spirit. I bound myself to keep my senses and impulses under
control, and I am doing so; but I did not bind myself not to have
them. I might as well have bound myself not to breathe. If the touch
of Aniela's hand made no more impression upon me than if it were a
piece of wood it would prove that I did not love her any longer, and
then all pledges would be unnecessary. Saying to Aniela that my whole
nature had changed in contact with her, I did not intend to deceive
her, but had not exactly defined the change. The truth is I only keep
myself in check. I renounced complete happiness in order to secure a
part of it. I preferred to have Aniela in this way to not having her
at all, and I think that every one who knows the meaning of true love
will understand me easily. If the passions are dogs, as the poets say,
I have chained them up, will starve them into submission, but I cannot
prevent their straining at the chain or emitting an occasional howl.
I know to what I have pledged myself, and shall keep to it; there is
nothing else to do. In the face of Aniela's firmness of purpose there
is no room for any agreeing or disagreeing. The fear that she may take
back what she has given is enough curb for me. I rather exaggerate my
caution and wariness, so as not to frighten away the bird which I call
"spiritual love," and she calls "friendship." That word, which in the
first moment was merely a prick, enough to make me wince, is gradually
growing into a sore. At the time it seemed to me not expressive
enough, and now it appears to me too cautious, too full of conditions.
How strange that characteristic of feminine nature, not to call things
by their name. Yet I explained distinctly to Aniela what I was asking
for, and she understood me fully; and nevertheless she called the
feeling "friendship," as if she wanted to veil herself with it before
me, before herself and God.
Looking at it from another point, it is true that a feeling devoid of
all earthly substance may be called by any name. There is sadness and
bitterness in the thought. This caution, common to very pure-minded
women, is undoubtedly the outcome of their modesty, but it does not
permit them to be generous. I might go straight to Aniela and say
to her: "I have sacrificed to you one half of my existence, and you
grudgingly dole me out your words; is it right?" And I tell her so
inwardly with reproachful eyes. It is difficult to imagine love
without generosity, without a desire to make some sacrifices.
To-day on Windischgrätzhöhe we conversed together like two beings
closely connected by the ties of love and friendship, but there was
nothing in our speech that brother and sister might not have said to
each other. If we had made such an excursion before we had entered
into our compact, I should undoubtedly have taken some advantage of
it, kissed her hands or feet or even tried, if only for a moment, to
take her in my arms; to-day I walked quietly at her side, like one
who is afraid of the slightest frown. Partly I restrained myself on
purpose, thinking that in this way I should win her confidence and
favor. By this silence I meant to say: "You will not be disappointed
in me; I will take rather less than I have a right to,--so as not to
break our compact."
But one feels hurt all the same, when the sacrifice is accepted
promptly and cheerfully as soon as it is offered. Involuntarily one
says inwardly to the beloved woman: "Do not let yourself be outdone in
generosity." And I said so,--but in vain.
What is the result? A certain disappointment for myself. I used to
think if such a compact existed between us, I should have perfect
liberty within its boundaries; should be able to say, "I love you" as
often as I liked, and hear the same from her lips; and that this
would compensate me for all my torments, for the whole time of my
suffering,--in short that I should be king in that restricted kingdom;
but now it appears that my horizon gets narrower than ever, and doubts
arise within me that might be compressed in the query: "What have you
gained?" I try to chase the thoughts away. I have gained something. I
have gained the sight of a bright and happy face; I have gained the
smile; I have gained the delight of seeing her limpid eyes look
fearlessly into mine. If I feel cramped and not quite at home in the
new house, the reason is that I have not got used to it. Besides,
formerly I was without a roof to shelter me; and if I cannot always
see clearly what I have gained, I know perfectly well that I have lost
nothing. I shall never forget that.