"All that day I did not speak to my wife. I could not. Her proximity
excited such hatred that I feared myself. At the table she asked me, in
presence of the children, when I was to start upon a journey. I was to
go the following week to an assembly of the Zemstvo, in a neighboring
locality. I named the date. She asked me if I would need anything for
the journey. I did not answer. I sat silent at the table, and silently
I retired to my study. In those last days she never entered my study,
especially at that hour. Suddenly I heard her steps, her walk, and then
a terribly base idea entered my head that, like the wife of Uri, she
wished to conceal a fault already committed, and that it was for
this reason that she came to see me at this unseasonable hour. 'Is it
possible,' thought I, 'that she is coming to see me?' On hearing her
step as it approached: 'If it is to see me that she is coming, then I am
right.'

"An inexpressible hatred invaded my soul. The steps drew nearer, and
nearer, and nearer yet. Would she pass by and go on to the other room?
No, the hinges creaked, and at the door her tall, graceful, languid
figure appeared. In her face, in her eyes, a timidity, an insinuating
expression, which she tried to hide, but which I saw, and of which I
understood the meaning. I came near suffocating, such were my efforts to
hold my breath, and, continuing to look at her, I took my cigarette, and
lighted it.

"'What does this mean? One comes to talk with you, and you go to
smoking.'

"And she sat down beside me on the sofa, resting against my shoulder. I
recoiled, that I might not touch her.