ve it," she screamed almost
furiously, turning her face upwards again. "Don't dare to look at me
with your sympathy! Walk about the room, say something, talk...."

Shatov began muttering something again, like one distraught.

"What do you do here?" she asked, interrupting him with contemptuous
impatience.

"I work in a merchant's office. I could get a fair amount of money even
here if I cared to, Marie."

"So much the better for you...."

"Oh, don't suppose I meant anything, Marie. I said it without thinking."

"And what do you do besides? What are you preaching? You can't exist
without preaching, that's your character!"

"I am preaching God, Marie."

"In whom you don't believe yourself. I never could see the idea of that."

"Let's leave that, Marie; we'll talk of that later."

"What sort of person was this Marya Timofyevna here?"

"We'll talk of that later too, Marie."

"Don't dare to say such things to me! Is it true that her death may have
been caused by... the wickedness... of these people?"

"Not a doubt of it," growled Shatov.

Marie suddenly raised her head and cried out painfully:

"Don't dare speak of that to me again, don't dare to, never, never!"

And she fell back in bed again, overcome by the same convulsive agony;
it was the third time, but this time her groans were louder, in fact she
screamed.

"Oh, you insufferable man! Oh, you unbearable man," she cried, tossing
about recklessly, and pushing away Shatov as he bent over her.

"Marie, I'll do anything you like.... I'll walk about and talk...."

"Surely you must see that it has begun!"

"What's begun, Marie?"

"How can I tell! Do I know anything about it?... I curse myself! Oh,
curse it all from the beginning!"

"Marie, if you'd tell me what's beginning... or else I... if you don't,
what am I to make of it?"

"You are a useless, theoretical babbler. Oh, curse everything on earth!"

"Marie, Marie!" He seriously thought that she was beginning to go mad.

"Surely you must see that I am in the agonies of childbirth," she said,
sitting up and gazing at him with a terrible, hysterical vindictiveness
that distorted her whole face. "I curse him before he is born, this
child!"

"Marie," cried Shatov, realising at last what it meant. "Marie... but
why didn't you tell me before." He pulled himself together at once and
seized his cap with an air of vigorous determination.

"How could I tell when I came in here? Should I have come to y