The widow had emerged from her former lethargy. That sudden and violent shock which the sight of Yosef at the restaurant had called forth roused her, enlivened her. She began to think. One thing alone was she unable at first to explain. Yosef's form was so confounded in her mind with that of Potkanski that she did not know herself which was her former husband. That was the remnant of her insanity. But soon a ray of light returned to that beclouded mind. She begged Gustav to let her see Yosef. Gustav, though unwilling, agreed to this. With yearning did she wait for the evening when she was to look at that reminder of her former happiness. Not Yosef was she seeking, but the reminder; hence he was for her an absolute necessity.
Then gradually and quite imperceptibly the past changed into the present, the dream into a reality. Yosef, noting this, had promised Gustav not to visit her; to prepare Helena and announce this news to her pertained to Gustav.
It was easy to foresee the impression which this would make. She clasped her hands and threw back her head. A torrent of hair covered her shoulders with a rustle.
"Where shall I see him?" asked she, insistently.
Gustav was silent.
"I must see him here or elsewhere. He is so like Kazimir—My God, I live entirely by that memory, Pan Gustav."
Gustav was silent. He was made almost indignant by that blind egotism of Pani Helena. The drama began to play in him again. She begged him to do everything to undermine his own happiness. No! to act thus he would have to be a fool. But on the other hand—it was Helena who made the prayer. He bit his lips till the blood came, and was silent. Moreover, something belongs to him even from life. Everything that in him made up the man opposed her prayers with desperate energy. Meanwhile she continued to urge,—
"Pan Gustav, you will arrange so that I shall see him? I wish to see him. Why do you do me such an injustice?"
Cold sweat covered Gustav's forehead; he stretched his hands to his face, and in a gloomy voice answered,—
"I do you no injustice, but"—here his voice quivered, he made an effort not to fall at her feet and cry out, "But I love thee, do not torture me!"—"he does not wish to come here," concluded he, almost inaudibly.