When I
entered he interrupted his work, listened attentively to what I had to
say, and then asked, "Do you hesitate?"
"No, I do not hesitate, but I am reflecting. I want to know why I want
it."
"Then I will tell you this; I was once like you, inclined to analyze
not only my own feelings but all manifestations of life. When I came
to know your mother I lost that faculty at once. I knew one thing
only, that I wanted her, and did not care to know anything else.
Therefore if you have a like powerful desire, marry. I express myself
wrongly, for if you wish it very much you will do it without anybody's
help or advice, and be as happy as I was until your mother died."
We remained silent for some time. If I were to apply my father's words
closely to my own case, I should feel small comfort. I love Aniela,
there is no doubt; but I have not arrived yet at a state that
precludes all reflection. But I do not consider this as a bad sign;
it simply means that I belong to a generation that has gone a step
farther on the way to knowledge.
There are always two persons within me,--the actor, and the spectator.
Often the spectator is dissatisfied with the actor, but at present
they both agree.
My father was the first to interrupt the silence.
"Tell me what she is like."
Since a description is an unsatisfactory way of painting a portrait, I
showed my father a large and really excellent photograph of Aniela, at
which he looked with the keenest interest.
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