ver!), a being he had always considered
immeasurably above him in spite of his perfectly sober understanding of
her errors; a being to whom he could forgive everything, _everything_ (of
that there could be no question; indeed it was quite the other way, his
idea was that he was entirely to blame); this woman, this Marya Shatov,
was in his house, in his presence again... it was almost inconceivable!
He was so overcome, there was so much that was terrible and at the same
time so much happiness in this event that he could not, perhaps would
not--perhaps was afraid to--realise the position. It was a dream. But
when she looked at him with that harassed gaze he suddenly understood
that this woman he loved so dearly was suffering, perhaps had been
wronged. His heart went cold. He looked at her features with anguish:
the first bloom of youth had long faded from this exhausted face. It's
true that she was still good-looking--in his eyes a beauty, as she had
always been. In reality she was a woman of twenty-five, rather strongly
built, above the medium height (taller than Shatov), with abundant dark
brown hair, a pale oval face, and large dark eyes now glittering with
feverish brilliance. But the light-hearted, naive and good-natured
energy he had known so well in the past was replaced now by a sullen
irritability and disillusionment, a sort of cynicism which was not yet
habitual to her herself, and which weighed upon her. But the chief thing
was that she was ill, that he could see clearly. In spite of the awe in
which he stood of her he suddenly went up to her and took her by both
hands.

"Marie... you know... you are very tired, perhaps, for God's sake, don't
be angry.... If you'd consent to have some tea, for instance, eh? Tea
picks one up so, doesn't it? If you'd consent!"

"Why talk about consenting! Of course I consent, what a baby you are
still. Get me some if you can. How cramped you are here. How cold it
is!"

"Oh, I'll get some logs for the fire directly, some logs... I've got
logs." Shatov was all astir. "Logs... that is... but I'll get tea
directly," he waved his hand as though with desperate determination and
snatched up his cap.

"Where are you going? So you've no tea in the house?"

"There shall be, there shall be, there shall be, there shall be
everything directly.... I..." he took his revolver from the shelf, "I'll
sell this revolver directly... or pawn it...."

"What foolishness and what a time that will