But it is the work of a
dray-horse, carting grain to the granary. I could not do it even if I
wished. I am a high-stepper, fit only for a carriage, and of no use on
sandy, rutty roads, where common horses do the work better and more
steadily. At the building of a house I could not carry the bricks, but
might do something in the ornamental line, but where it is a question
of four simple walls and a sound roof, artisans such as I are not
wanted. If at least I had a mighty impulse towards work, I still might
be able to force myself to do something. But in the main, it is only a
question of appearances. I wish to work in order to please the woman
I love. Aniela in regard to that has exalted notions, and it would
certainly please her. Moreover, for that very reason my vanity and
also my calculations urge me to bid for a prominent position, which
would raise my value in her eyes. I will see what can be done, and
in the meanwhile my purse will do the work for me. I shall have the
collection sent over, support various institutions, and give money
where it is wanted.
What a strange power there is in woman! She comes in contact with a
genius without portfolio, an exceptionally useless implement like me,
and then, without any preaching on her part, he feels himself in duty
bound to do all sorts of things he never dreamed of doing before.
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