n without the hotel... I must, any way, explain the
position. Remember, Shatov, that we lived in Geneva as man and wife for
a fortnight and a few days; it's three years since we parted, without
any particular quarrel though. But don't imagine that I've come back
to renew any of the foolishness of the past. I've come back to look for
work, and that I've come straight to this town is just because it's all
the same to me. I've not come to say I am sorry for anything; please
don't imagine anything so stupid as that."

"Oh, Marie! This is unnecessary, quite unnecessary," Shatov muttered
vaguely.

"If so, if you are so far developed as to be able to understand that, I
may allow myself to add, that if I've come straight to you now and am
in your lodging, it's partly because I always thought you were far
from being a scoundrel and were perhaps much better than other...
blackguards!"

Her eyes flashed. She must have had to bear a great deal at the hands of
some "blackguards."

"And please believe me, I wasn't laughing at you just now when I told
you you were good. I spoke plainly, without fine phrases and I can't
endure them. But that's all nonsense. I always hoped you would have
sense enough not to pester me.... Enough, I am tired."

And she bent on him a long, harassed and weary gaze. Shatov stood
facing her at the other end of the room, which was five paces away, and
listened to her timidly with a look of new life and unwonted radiance
on his face. This strong, rugged man, all bristles on the surface,
was suddenly all softness and shining gladness. There was a thrill
of extraordinary and unexpected feeling in his soul. Three years of
separation, three years of the broken marriage had effaced nothing from
his heart. And perhaps every day during those three years he had dreamed
of her, of that beloved being who had once said to him, "I love you."
Knowing Shatov I can say with certainty that he could never have allowed
himself even to dream that a woman might say to him, "I love you."
He was savagely modest and chaste, he looked on himself as a perfect
monster, detested his own face as well as his character, compared
himself to some freak only fit to be exhibited at fairs. Consequently
he valued honesty above everything and was fanatically devoted to his
convictions; he was gloomy, proud, easily moved to wrath, and sparing
of words. But here was the one being who had loved him for a fortnight
(that he had never doubted, ne