He appeared to me very conceited; and after all, I treated
him with far greater politeness than he exhibited towards me. This
amused me a little, and helped to keep my thoughts, which the sight
of Aniela confused, under control. From time to time I looked at her
across the table, and repeated to myself: "The same features, the same
little face, the same low brow shaded by a wealth of hair; it is the
same Aniela, almost a little girl, my love, my happiness; and now lost
to me forever." There was inexpressible sweetness in the sensation,
mingled with exquisite pain. Aniela, too, had recovered from her
emotion, but looked still frightened. I tried to draw her into
conversation, speaking about her mother. I was partly successful; she
seemed a little more at ease, and said,--
"Mamma will be very glad to see you."
I permitted myself a doubt as far as her mother was concerned, but
listened to her voice with half-closed eyes; it was sweeter to me than
any music.
We were conversing more freely every moment. My aunt was in excellent
spirits,--first, because of seeing me once more at Ploszow, and also
because she had seen Clara and got from her the promise of a concert.
When leaving the artist she had met two other ladies, patronesses of
charitable institutions, ascending the staircase bent on the same
errand. They were too late, and that had put her in a high good-humor.
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