The last spark of hope seemed to have died out. There was
darkness not only within me, but it seemed to encompass the whole
world, and weigh upon it as the atmosphere weighs upon us and
permeates all nature.
I carried home with me a heaviness of feeling and great restlessness
and a fear as if something unknown was threatening me. There woke
up within me a sudden longing for the sun and brighter skies, for
countries where there is no mist, no rain, and no darkness. It seemed
to me that if I went where there was sun and brightness, it would
shield me from some unknown danger.
Oh, to go away! The entire capacity of my thoughts was filled with
that eager desire. Then suddenly another fear clutched at my heart: if
I went away, Aniela would be exposed to that same impalpable danger
from which I wanted to fly. I knew it was only a delusion of my brain,
and that really my departure would be the best thing for her. Yet
I could not get rid of the sensation that to desert her would be
cowardice and meanness. All my reasoning cannot get over this.
Besides, the going away is only an empty word; I may say it to myself
a hundred times, but if I were to try to change it into fact I should
find it altogether beyond my power. I have put so much of my life in
that one feeling that it would be easier to cut me into pieces than to
part me from it.
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