"You do not love me? . . . You will love me in time. I swear that I, my mother, and my father will be your slaves. I will wait if you wish . . . Say that in a year, or two, or even five, you will love me. . . . I will wait. . . . I swear to you that I will wait! But do not say no to me! For God's sake do not say that, for I shall go mad with despair! How can it be? You do not love me! . . . But I love you . . . we all love you . . . we cannot live without you! . . . no. . . . Your father told me that . . . that . . . and now . . . God! I will go crazy! What are you doing to me! What are you doing to me!" Springing up from the floor he fairly cried aloud with pain. Mechanically he pulled off his gloves, tore them to pieces and flung them on the floor, buttoned up his coat to the topmost button, and struggling to control himself said: "Farewell, Miss Janina. But always . . . everywhere . . . forever . . . I will . . ." he whispered with great effort, bowed his head and went toward the door. "Andrew!" she called after him forcibly. Grzesikiewicz turned back from the door. "Andrew," she said in a pleading voice, "I do not love you, but I respect you. . . . I cannot marry you, I cannot . . . but I will always think of you as of a noble man. Surely you will understand that it would be a base thing for me to marry a man whom I do not love . . . I know that you detest falsehood and hypocrisy and so do I. Forgive me for hurting you, but I also suffer . . . I also am not happy oh no!" "Janina if you would only . . . if you would only . . ." She regarded him with such a sorrowful expression that he became silent. Then slowly he left the room. Janina still sat there dazed, staring at the door through which he had gone, when Orlowski entered the room. He had met Grzesikiewicz on the stairs and in his face had read what had happened. Janina uttered a little cry of fear, so great a change had come over him. His face was ashen-gray, his eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets, his head swayed violently from side to side. He seated himself near the table and with a quiet, smothered voice asked, "What did you tell Grzesikiewicz?" "What I told you yesterday; that I do not love him and will not marry him!" she answered boldly, but she was startled at the seeming calm with which her father spoke. "Why?" he queried sharply, as though he did not understand her. "I told him that I do not love him and do not wish to marry at all. . . ." "You are a fool! . . . a fool! . . . a fool!" he hissed at her through his tightly set teeth. She regarded him calmly and all her old obstinacy returned. "I said that you would marry him. I gave my word that you would marry him, and you will marry him!" "I will not! . . . no one is able to force me!" she answered sullenly, looking with steady gaze into her father's eyes. "I will drag you to the altar. I will compel you! . . . You must! . . ." he cried hoarsely. "No!"