timent—hate to mix uo love and "brotherhood of souls."
Now I am near thinking that this man, whom I never loved, may be the only one fit to become my husband.
Often of nights, lying awake and staring into the darkness with wide-open eyes, I feel burning lips, lips famished with hunger, that are pressed to mine. …
And when I seize the kiss upon those lips, I know that they are the lips, not of Roslawski, but of Janusz.
And then I am full of terror lest an evil thing has been done that never can be undone—lest something may have fallen away for ever out of my life.
Then do I no longer feel any desire for any one; and I weep in the dark, but silently, not to awaken Martha.
In the morning, I look upon Janusz with hatred and with loathing; and I treat him harshly, though he is indeed in no wise to blame. I merely use him ill, because my soul is a-wandering alone over those ice-plains of mine, is still dreaming cold silvery dreams, is seeking in vain for a fraternal soul.
