Another silence.
"No: and yet, supposing that …"
"Remember my condition."
No more is said.
In front of my lodgings we bid each other a calm and friendly farewell.
The next morning, on my way to my office, I put a long scented envelope into a post-box. It is addressed to Janusz.
Nevertheless, the decision which it contains is—not to marry him.
Yes, I am now the bond-slave of my soul: these my ice-plains, it is no longer mine to leave them.
I have done with suffering. … During all these long days and nights, I have not shed one tear. I do not suffer now: the agony-delirium has passed those limits, beyond which no difference is felt between joy and misery, beyond which there is no night of woe, that contrasts with day.
In the still autumn twilight, I am shut up in my dark and lonely room. Lest I should awake my soul, that has fallen asleep, I am pacing the soft carpet with noiseless steps.
I am in terror of the very movements which
