t that
he had bought Dubetchnya, which had already been a loss to him,
poor Masha's face wore an expression of misery. She would complain
to him, and he would yawn and say that the peasants ought to be
flogged.

He called our marriage and our life a farce, and said it was a
caprice, a whim.

"She has done something of the sort before," he said about Masha.
"She once fancied herself a great opera singer and left me; I was
looking for her for two months, and, my dear soul, I spent a thousand
roubles on telegrams alone."

He no longer called me a dissenter or Mr. Painter, and did not as
in the past express approval of my living like a workman, but said:

"You are a strange person! You are not a normal person! I won't
venture to prophesy, but you will come to a bad end!"

And Masha slept badly at night, and was always sitting at our bedroom
window thinking. There was no laughter at supper now, no charming
grimaces. I was wretched, and when it rained, every drop that fell
seemed to pierce my heart, like small shot, and I felt ready to
fall on my knees before Masha and apologize for the weather. When
the peasants made a noise in the yard I felt guilty also. For hours
at a time I sat still in one place, thinking of nothing but what a
splendid person Masha was, what a wonderful person. I loved her
passionately, and I was fascinated by everything she did, everything
she said. She had a bent for quiet, studious pursuits; she was fond
of reading for hours together, of studying. Although her knowledge
of farming was only from books she surprised us all by what she
knew; and every piece of advice she gave was of value; not one was
ever thrown away; and, with all that, what nobility, what taste,
what graciousness, that graciousness which is only found in
well-educated people.

To this woman, with her sound, practical intelligence, the disorderly
surroundings with petty cares and sordid anxieties in which we were
living now were an agony: I saw that and could not sleep at night;
my brain worked feverishly and I had a lump in my throat. I rushed
about not knowing what to do.

I galloped to the town and brought Masha books, newspapers, sweets,
flowers; with Stepan I caught fish, wading for hours up to my neck
in the cold water in the rain to catch eel-pout to vary our fare;
I demeaned myself to beg the peasants not to make a noise; I plied
them with vodka, bought them off, made all sorts of promises. And
how many other foolis