When I was going away, Sniatynski called out after me: 

“From such as you nothing good will come, but your children may be men; but you and such like must lose every penny you possess, otherwise even your grandchildren will do nothing useful.”

I still think that on the whole I was right.  I have taken special notice of this conversation, as this discrepancy has occupied my thoughts ever since my arrival.  The fact is that between the classes there is a vast gulf that precludes all mutual understanding, and makes simultaneous efforts simply impossible.  At least, I look upon it in that light.  Sevres china and common clay,—­nothing between; one tres fragile, the other, Ovidius’s “rudis indigestaque moles.”  Of course Sevres china sooner or later breaks, and from the clay the future may mould anything it likes.

2 February.

Yesterday my aunt’s entertainment took place.  Aniela was the cynosure of every eye.  Her white shoulders peeping out from a cloud of muslin, gauze, or whatever it is called, she looked like a Venus rising from the foam.  I fancy it is already gossiped about that I am going to marry her.  I noticed that her eyes often strayed in my direction, and she listened to her partners with an absent, distracted expression.

Guileless child! she cannot hide the truth, and shows so plainly what is going on in her heart that I could not help seeing it, unless I were blind.  And she is so humble and quietly happy when I am with her!  I like her immensely, and begin to waver.  Sniatynski is so happy in his home life!  It is not the first time I have asked myself whether Sniatynski be more foolish or wiser than I. Of the many problems of life, I have not solved one.  I am nothing; scepticism is sapping my whole system; I am not happy, and am very tired.  He, with less knowledge than I, does useful work, has a good and handsome wife, the rogue! and his very philosophical principles, adapted to life, help to make him happy.  No, it must be acknowledged, it is I who am the more foolish of the two.

The keynote of Sniatynski’s philosophy is found in his dogmas of life.  Before he was married he said to me:  “There are two things I never approach with scepticism, and do not criticise:  to me as a literary man, the community is a dogma; as a private individual, the beloved woman.”  I thought to myself then:  “My mind is bolder,—­it analyzes even that.”  But I see now that this boldness has not led me to anything.  And how lovely she is,—­that little dogma of mine with the long eyelashes!  Decidedly, I am going the way I did not mean to go.  The singular attraction which draws me towards her cannot be explained by the law of natural selection.  Ho! there is something more, and I know what it is.  She loves me with all the freshness of her honest heart, as I was never loved before.  How different from the fencing practice of former years, when thrusts were dealt or guarded against!  The woman who is much liked, and who in her turn loves, is sure to win in the end if she perseveres.