"Thank Heaven, you have come. Everything looks different at once with you in the house."
Aniela, pressing my hand, said shyly, "You will not go away soon, will you?"
"No, Aniela," I replied; "I will not go away again." And I went, or rather fled, to my room, because I felt that I could bear the strain no longer. There had been such an accumulation of misery and tears in my heart during that evening that I felt half choked. There are small sacrifices that cost more than great ones.
8 November.
Why do I repeat to myself so often that she is as the crown of my head? Because one must love a woman more than life, consider her as the crown of life, if he does not leave her under circumstances like these. I am perfectly aware that mere physical repugnance would have driven me from any other woman; and since I remain here the thought occurs to me again that my love must be an aberration of the nerves, which could not exist were I a normally healthy specimen of mankind. The modern man, who explains to himself everything by the word "neurosis," and is conscious of all that is going on within himself, has not even the comfort which a conviction of his own faithfulness might give him. For if he says to himself, "Your faithfulness and perseverance are signs of disease, not virtues," it adds one bitterness the more. If consciousness of all these things makes life so much more difficult, why do we take so much care to cultivate it.
To-day, by daylight, I noticed how much Aniela is changed, and my heart was torn at the sight. Her mouth is swollen, and the once so pure brow has lost its purity and clearness. My aunt was right,—her beauty is almost gone. But the eyes are the same as those of the former Aniela, and that is enough for me. That changed face only increases my pity and tenderness, and she is dearer to me than ever. If she were ten times more changed I should love her still. If this be disease, I am sickening with it, and do not wish to get well again; I would rather die of this disease than of any other.
9 November.
A time will come when under changed circumstances she will recover her beauty. I thought of it to-day and at once asked myself what would be our relations towards each other in the future, and whether it would make any change. I am certain it will not. I know already how it feels to live without her, and shall not do anything which might make her cast me off. She will always remain the same; I have now not the slightest doubt that I am necessary to her life, but I know also that she will never call the feeling she has for me by any other name than great sisterly affection. What matters the name? it will be always the ideal love of one soul towards another; and that is lawful, because permitted to brother and sister. Were it otherwise, she would be in arms against it at once.
In regard to this I have no illusion whatever. I have already said that since she changed our mutual relations into ideal feelings, they have become dear to her. Let it remain thus, provided they be dear to her.
10 November.