Free The Dark Domain by Stefan Grabinski Page A

me all those years while I trailed after her like a distant, timid shadow? I was so discreet, so very unobtrusive! My yearning enveloped her with such a far-removed, delicate ray. Yet she must have sensed this. With a sensitive woman’s instinct, she sensed my love and my meek, boundless adoration. It seems that the invisible bonds of attraction that existed between us all these years grew more powerful during our distant separation, and now they draw her to me.
    My best wishes, my most beautiful one! At this evening hour, the day bows before me in bright, cheerful flashes, and with a raised head I hum a song in praise of your magnificence – my most wonderful Lady!
    It is already Thursday. The day after tomorrow, at this time, I will see her. Not until then. Such is her expressed wish. I take her letter in my hand, that priceless lilac sheet from which escapes a subtle fragrance of heliotrope, and I read for the hundredth time:

    Dear! Call at the house on 8 Green Street on Saturday, the 26th, at six in the evening. You will find the garden gate open. I will be waiting for you. Let the yearning of many years be fulfilled. Yours, Jadwiga Kalergis

    The house on 8 Green Street! Her villa, The Lindens! A splendid, medieval-styled little mansion in the midst of a grand park, separated from the street by woods and a thick wire fence; the aim of nearly all my daily walks. How many times during the evening had I sneaked up to this quiet spot, searching with a racing heart for her shadow on the windowpanes! …
    Impatient with waiting for the anticipated Saturday, I was already at her house several times attempting to gain entry; but I always found the garden gate closed – the handle yielded, but the lock did not spring open. She still had not returned. I should be patient and wait, but I am so unbearably excited. I do not eat, I cannot sleep; I only count the hours, the minutes. So much time remains! Forty-eight hours! … Tomorrow I will spend the entire day on the river by her park. I will rent a boat and circle near her villa. Saturday I will spend the morning and part of the afternoon at the railway station. I have to welcome her, at least from afar. I know from her neighbours, who have not seen her for a year, that she has not yet returned. She has definitely postponed her arrival until the 26th of September – that is, on the day of my visit. In truth, I fear I won’t come at an opportune time; after such a journey she will be extremely tired.
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    Saturday morning – that is, yesterday – I did not see her among the abundant crowds at the station. I waited until four in the afternoon for the second train, with the same result. Maybe she hadn’t arrived? Or maybe she had come on the morning train and was already at home? In either case, I had to go to her villa and ascertain the truth.
    Those two hours that separated us became an unbearable torment whose end I could hardly wait for. Entering a café, I drank a large amount of black coffee, smoked lots of cigarettes, and unable to sit still, I rushed back outside. Passing by a flower stall, I remembered the flowers I had ordered for today.
    How absentminded of me! I would have completely forgotten!
    I went and collected a bouquet of crimson roses and azaleas. The freshly-cut flowers, their fragrant buds emerging from a circle of ferns, shook gently in the evening breeze. The clocks of the city were approaching a quarter to six.
    I wrapped the bouquet in paper and quickly left in the direction of the river. In several minutes I was already on the other side of the bridge. With a nervous step I neared the villa. My heart beat wildly, my legs trembled. Finally I reached the gate and pressed down on the handle: it gave way. Dazed by happiness, I rested for several minutes against the park fence, unable to contain my emotions. So, she had returned!
    My wandering gaze travelled