Presently she sat down to the piano, and as evidently Mozart suited
her disposition, she gave us Don Juan. The first notes sounded, she
was a different Clara; not the merry, lively child any longer, but an
incarnate Saint Cecilia. There shone in her the close relationship of
outward form with the spirit of harmony, which surrounded her with a
dignity above common womanhood. I made another observation, namely:
that a man in love can find food for his feelings even in what tells
against the loved woman. When I thought how far my Aniela was from
being a Sybil, saw her sitting in a corner of the drawing-room so
small and still, as if crushed down by some weight, I loved her all
the more, and it made her if possible dearer to me than ever. It also
occurred to me that a woman is not in reality what she appears to
people in general, but such as the man who loves sees her; therefore
her absolute excellence is in proportion to the power of love she
inspires. I had no time to follow out this idea, but it pleased me
because I saw dimly before me the conclusion that in the name of this
excellence the woman ought to give her heart to him who loves her
most.
Clara played superbly. I watched the sensation on the others' faces,
when presently I noticed that Aniela was looking at me for the same
reason. Was it mere curiosity, or an involuntary uneasiness of heart
which could not say what it feared and yet was afraid? I said to
myself: "If the last supposition were true it would be a proof that
she loves me.
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