I wrote to-day a letter to my aunt, because I was afraid
she might be uneasy about me and come here to look after me. I am
sometimes astonished to find there is still somebody that cares what
becomes of me.
13 September.
There are men who lead astray other men's wives, deceive them, and
afterwards throw them aside and quietly resume their every-day life.
I have never done any such thing, and if Aniela had been my victim I
should have wiped the dust from off her path; no human power could
have torn me from her. There are greater crimes than mine, but upon
me has fallen such a burden that it gives me the impression of an
exceptional punishment; and I cannot help thinking that my love must
have been a terrible crime.
This is a kind of instinctive fear, against which scepticism is no
safeguard. And yet by all moral laws it must be admitted that it would
be a greater offence to lead a woman to ruin without love, and do from
calculation what I did from a deep love. Surely the responsibility
cannot be greater for an immense, overpowering feeling than for a mean
little weakness.
No! therefore my love is, above all, an awful calamity. A man free
from prejudices can imagine how he would feel if he were swayed by
prejudice; so, too, a man who doubts may imagine how he could pray if
he had the faith. I not only have the feeling, but it breaks forth
into a complaint, almost like a sincere prayer, and I say: "If I am
guilty, O God! I have been punished severely, and a little mercy might
be shown to me.
Pages:
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542