Now I was not to return before his departure
from the city. So we bade each other a definite farewell. For the
first time I shook his hand with pleasure, and thanked him for the
satisfaction that he had given me. He likewise took leave of my wife,
and their parting seemed to me very natural and proper. All went
marvellously. My wife and I retired, well satisfied with the evening. We
talked of our impressions in a general way, and we were nearer together
and more friendly than we had been for a long time."

CHAPTER XXIV.

"Two days later I started for the assembly, having bid farewell to my
wife in an excellent and tranquil state of mind. In the district there
was always much to be done. It was a world and a life apart. During two
days I spent ten hours at the sessions. The evening of the second day,
on returning to my district lodgings, I found a letter from my wife,
telling me of the children, of their uncle, of the servants, and, among
other things, as if it were perfectly natural, that Troukhatchevsky had
been at the house, and had brought her the promised scores. He had also
proposed that they play again, but she had refused.

"For my part, I did not remember at all that he had promised any score.
It had seemed to me on Sunday evening that he took a definite leave,
and for this reason the news gave me a disagreeable surprise. I read the
letter again. There was something tender and timid about it. It produced
an extremely painful impression upon me. My heart swelled, and the mad
beast of jealousy began to roar in his lair, and seemed to want to leap
upon his prey. But I was afraid of this beast, and I imposed silence
upon it.

"What an abominable sentiment is jealousy! 'What could be more natural
than what she has written?' said I to myself. I went to bed, thinking
myself tranquil again. I thought of the business that remained to be
done, and I went to sleep without thinking of her.

"During these assemblies of the Zemstvo I always slept badly in my
strange quarters. That night I went to sleep directly, but, as sometimes
happens, a sort of sudden shock awoke me. I thought immediately of her,
of my physical love for her, of Troukhatchevsky, and that between them
everything had happened. And a feeling of rage compressed my heart, and
I tried to quiet myself.

"'How stupid!' said I to myself; 'there is no reason, none at all. And
why humiliate ourselves, herself and myself, and especially myself,
by supposin