there was no comfort in prayer; and
her suffering was less for herself than for her father, whose grief she
foresaw and understood.

Thus months dragged along, and then something happened which entirely
transformed her life. One day, when she was at work upon a quilt, she
suddenly experienced a strange sensation. No--it seemed impossible.
Motionless she sat with her work in hand. Was it possible that this
was IT. Forgetting everything, his baseness and deceit, her mother's
querulousness, and her father's sorrow, she smiled. She shuddered at
the recollection that she was on the point of killing it, together with
herself.

She now directed all her thoughts to getting away--somewhere where she
could bear her child--and become a miserable, pitiful mother, but a
mother withal. Somehow she planned and arranged it all, leaving her home
and settling in a distant provincial town, where no one could find
her, and where she thought she would be far from her people. But,
unfortunately, her father's brother received an appointment there,
a thing she could not possibly foresee. For four months she had been
living in the house of a midwife--one Maria Ivanovna; and, on learning
that her uncle had come to the town, she was preparing to fly to a still
remoter hiding-place.

III

MICHAEL IVANOVICH awoke early next morning. He entered his brother's
study, and handed him the cheque, filled in for a sum which he asked
him to pay in monthly instalments to his daughter. He inquired when the
express left for St. Petersburg. The train left at seven in the evening,
giving him time for an early dinner before leaving. He breakfasted with
his sister-in-law, who refrained from mentioning the subject which was
so painful to him, but only looked at him timidly; and after breakfast
he went out for his regular morning walk.

Alexandra Dmitrievna followed him into the hall.

"Go into the public gardens, Michael--it is very charming there, and
quite near to Everything," said she, meeting his sombre looks with a
pathetic glance.

Michael Ivanovich followed her advice and went to the public gardens,
which were so near to Everything, and meditated with annoyance on the
stupidity, the obstinacy, and heartlessness of women.

"She is not in the very least sorry for me," he thought of his
sister-in-law. "She cannot even understand my sorrow. And what of her?"
He was thinking of his daughter. "She knows what all this means to
me--the torture. What a blo