My aunt is older than my father by several years.  When my father, after his great sorrow, left the country, he gave up the Ploszow estate to her, and took instead the ready capital.  My aunt has managed the property for thirty years, and manages it perfectly.  She is of a rather uncommon character, therefore I will devote to her a few lines.  At the age of twenty she was betrothed to a young man who died in exile just when my aunt was about to follow him abroad.  From that time forth she refused all offers of marriage and remained an old maid.  After my mother’s death she went with my father to Vienna and Rome, where she lived with him, surrounding him with the tenderest affections, which she subsequently transferred to me.  She is, in the full meaning of the word, une grande dame, somewhat of an autocrat, haughty and outspoken, with that self-possession wealth and a high position give, but withal the very essence of goodness and kindliness.  Under the cover of abrupt manners she has an excellent and lenient disposition, loving not only her own family, as for instance my father and myself and her own household, but mankind in general.  She is so virtuous that really I do not know whether there be any merit in it, as she could not be otherwise if she tried.  Her charities are proverbial.  She orders poor people about like a constable, and tends them like a Saint Vincent de Paul.  She is very religious.  No doubts whatever assail her mind.  What she does, she does from unshaken principles, and therefore never hesitates in the choice of ways and means.  Therefore she is always at peace with herself and very happy.  At Warsaw they call my aunt, on account of her abrupt manners, le bourreau bienfaisant.  Some people, especially among women, dislike her, but generally speaking she lives in peace with all classes.

Ploszow is not far from Warsaw, where my aunt owns a house in which she spends the winter.  Every winter she tries to inveigle me there in the hope to see me married.  Even now I received a mysteriously worded missive adjuring me to come at once.  I shall have to go, as I have not seen her for some time.  She writes that she is getting old and wishes to see me before she dies.  I confess I do not always feel inclined to go.  I know that my aunt’s dearest wish is to see me married, therefore every visit brings her a cruel disappointment.  The very idea of such a decisive step frightens me.  To begin a new life when I am so tired of the old one!  Finally, there is another vexatious element in my relations with my aunt.  As formerly my father’s friends looked upon him as a genius, so she persists in regarding me as one exceptionally gifted, from whom great things are to be expected.  To allow her to remain of this opinion seems an abuse of her good faith; to tell her that nothing is to be expected from me would be a more likely conclusion, but at the same time inflict upon the dear old lady a cruel blow.

To my misfortune many of those near me share my aunt’s opinion, and this brings me to the point of drawing a sketch of my own character, which is by no means an easy task, as my nature is rather a complicated one.