tle which she was fighting all alone with herself. She wept in moments of weakness. How much wounded self-love was there in those tears, how much sincere love for Yosef, it is difficult to tell. Formerly she would have put her arms around the neck of the kind Malinka, and confessed all that oppressed her soul, but now even Malinka was a stranger to her, or at least was not so near as formerly. Just those unsuccessful attempts to coquet with Augustinovich had wounded deeply that maiden, who was in love with him; and besides the relations of Lula with Pelski seemed very odd to her.
Meanwhile time passed. Lula began to doubt whether Yosef had ever loved her. Pelski imperceptibly fed her with the thought of future comfort. Time flowed on, and Time, according to the words of the poet, "is the odious guardian of blooming roses."
