fresh budding life, full of simple faith in God and the world, to my
doubts, my spiritual impotence, my hopeless scepticism, my criticism
and nerves? What will be the result of it for her? I cannot regain
another spiritual youth, and even at her side cannot find my old self;
my brains cannot change, or my nerves grow more vigorous,--and what
then? Is she to wither at my side? It would be simply monstrous. I to
play the part of a polypus that sucks the life-blood of its victims in
order to renew its own life! A heavy cloud weighs on my brain. But if
such be the case why did I allow it to go so far? What have I been
doing ever since I met Aniela? Playing on her very heartstrings to
bring forth sweet music. And yet, what for me was "Quasi una fantasia"
may prove to her "Quasi un dolore." Yes, I have played on that
sensitive instrument from morning until night; and what is more,
I feel that in spite of my self-upbraidings, I shall do the same
to-morrow and the days following, for I cannot help it; she attracts
me more than any woman I ever met, I desire her above all things--I
love her!

Why delude myself any longer?--I love her!

What is to be done? Must I go away back to Rome? That means a
disappointment and sorrow for her; for who knows how deeply rooted
her feelings may be? To marry her is the same as to sacrifice her for
myself, and make her life unhappy in another way. A truly enchanted
circle! Only people of the Ploszowski species ever get into such
dilemmas. And there is devilish little comfort in the thought that
there are more such as I, or that their name is legion.

Whether the species be gradually dying out, as badly fitted for the
struggle of life, remains to be seen; for in addition to an incapacity