the trees grow old too." This reminds me of the nobleman of vast
possessions who only allowed as much land to be cultivated as to where
the bark of his dog could be heard.

Aniela's mother, without intending it, gave me to-day a bad quarter of
an hour. Alone with me in the conservatory, she began telling me, with
maternal boastfulness, that an acquaintance of mine, a certain Pan
Kromitzki, had made overtures for Aniela's hand.

I had a sensation as if somebody tried to remove a splinter from my
flesh with a fork. As the blue waves of light had stirred up within me
a tender feeling for Aniela,--although it was no merit of hers,--so
now the wooing of such a man as Kromitzki threw cold water upon the
nascent affections. I know that ape Kromitzki, and do not like him. He
comes from Austrian Silesia, where it seems they had owned estates.
In Rome he used to say that his family had borne the title of count
already in the fifteenth century, and at the hotels put himself down
as "Graf von Kromitzki." But for his small, black eyes, not unlike
coffee-berries, and his black hair, his head looks as if cut out
from a cheese-rind,--for such is his complexion. He reminds me of a
death's-head, and I simply have a physical loathing for him. Ugh! how
the thought of him in connection with Aniela has spoiled her image.
I am quite aware that she is in no way responsible for Kromitzki's
intentions; but it has damaged her in my eyes. I do not know why her
mother should think it necessary to tell me these details; if it be a
warning, it has missed its aim. She must have some grand qualities,
this Pani P., since she has managed to steer her life through so many
difficulties, and at the same time educated her daughter so well; but
she is clumsy and tedious with her headaches and her macaronism.