in hysterics and would blame Pyotr Dmitritch. She made an effort
to restrain herself, but her sobs grew louder and louder every
minute.

"For God's sake," she cried in a voice not like her own, and not
knowing why she cried it. "For God's sake!"

She felt as though the bed were heaving under her and her feet were
entangled in the bed-clothes. Pyotr Dmitritch, in his dressing-gown,
with a candle in his hand, came into the bedroom.

"Olya, hush!" he said.

She raised herself, and kneeling up in bed, screwing up her eyes
at the light, articulated through her sobs:

"Understand . . . understand! . . . ."

She wanted to tell him that she was tired to death by the party,
by his falsity, by her own falsity, that it had all worked together,
but she could only articulate:

"Understand . . . understand!"

"Come, drink!" he said, handing her some water.

She took the glass obediently and began drinking, but the water
splashed over and was spilt on her arms, her throat and knees.

"I must look horribly unseemly," she thought.