“For a bull-dog, I suppose?” opined the merchant. “Yes,” she exclaimed, “of the kind that are used in Russia for intractable slaves.” She looked further and finally selected a whip, at whose sight I felt a strange creeping sensation. “Now good-by, Severin,” she said. “I have some other purchases to make, but you can’t go along.” I left her and took a walk. On the way back I saw Wanda coming out at a furrier’s. She beckoned me. “Consider it well,” she began in good spirits, “I have never made a secret of how deeply your serious, dreamy character has fascinated me. The idea of seeing this serious man wholly in my power, actually lying enraptured at my feet, of course, stimulates me—but will this attraction last? Woman loves a man; she maltreats a slave, and ends by kicking him aside.” “Very well then, kick me aside,” I replied, “when you are tired of me. I want to be your slave.” “Dangerous forces lie within me,” said Wanda, after we had gone a few steps further. “You awaken them, and not to your advantage. You know how to paint pleasure, cruelty, arrogance in glowing colors. What would you say should I try my hand at them, and make you the first object of my experiments. I would be like Dionysius who had the inventor of the iron ox roasted within it in order to see whether his wails and groans really resembled the bellowing of an ox. “Perhaps I am a female Dionysius?” “Be it,” I exclaimed, “and my dreams will be fulfilled. I am yours for good or evil, choose. The destiny that lies concealed within my breast drives me on—demoniacally—relentlessly.” “My Beloved, I do not care to see you to-day or to-morrow, and not until evening the day after tomorrow, and then _as my slave_. Your mistress Wanda.” “As my slave” was underlined. I read the note which I received early in the morning a second time. Then I had a donkey saddled, an animal symbolic of learned professors, and rode into the mountains. I wanted to numb my desire, my yearning, with the magnificent scenery of the Carpathians. I am back, tired, hungry, thirsty, and more in love than ever. I quickly change my clothes, and a few moments later knock at her door. “Come in!” I enter. She is standing in the center of the room, dressed in a gown of white satin which floods down her body like light. Over it she wears a scarlet _kazabaika_, richly edged with ermine. Upon her powdered, snowy hair is a little diadem of diamonds. She stands with her arms folded across her breast, and with her brows contracted. “Wanda!” I run toward her, and am about to throw my arm about her to kiss her. She retreats a step, measuring me from top to bottom. “Slave!” “Mistress!” I kneel down, and kiss the hem of her garment. “That is as it should be.” “Oh, how beautiful you are.” “Do I please you?” She stepped before the mirror, and looked at herself with proud satisfaction. “I shall become mad!” Her lower lip twitched derisively, and she looked at me mockingly from behind half-closed lids.