hat she
was obliged to get up from her bed in indignation and curl-papers,
and, sitting down on a couch, she had to listen, though with sarcastic
disdain. Only then she grasped for the first time how far gone her
Andrey Antonovitch was, and was secretly horrified. She ought to have
thought what she was about and have been softened, but she concealed her
horror and was more obstinate than ever. Like every wife she had her
own method of treating Andrey Antonovitch, which she had tried more than
once already and with it driven him to frenzy. Yulia Mihailovna's method
was that of contemptuous silence, for one hour, two, a whole day and
almost for three days and nights--silence whatever happened, whatever he
said, whatever he did, even if he had clambered up to throw himself
out of a three-story window--a method unendurable for a sensitive man!
Whether Yulia Mihailovna meant to punish her husband for his blunders of
the last few days and the jealous envy he, as the chief authority in the
town, felt for her administrative abilities; whether she was indignant
at his criticism of her behaviour with the young people and local
society generally, and lack of comprehension of her subtle and
far-sighted political aims; or was angry with his stupid and senseless
jealousy of Pyotr Stepanovitch--however that may have been, she made
up her mind not to be softened even now, in spite of its being three
o'clock at night, and though Andrey Antonovitch was in a state of
emotion such as she had never seen him in before.

Pacing up and down in all directions over the rugs of her boudoir,
beside himself, he poured out everything, everything, quite
disconnectedly, it's true, but everything that had been rankling in
his heart, for--"it was outrageous." He began by saying that he was a
laughing-stock to every one and "was being led by the nose."

"Curse the expression," he squealed, at once catching her smile, "let it
stand, it's true.... No, madam, the time has come; let me tell you it's
not a time for laughter and feminine arts now. We are not in the boudoir
of a mincing lady, but like two abstract creatures in a balloon who have
met to speak the truth." (He was no doubt confused and could not find
the right words for his ideas, however just they were.) "It is you,
madam, you who have destroyed my happy past. I took up this post
simply for your sake, for the sake of your ambition.... You smile
sarcastically? Don't triumph, don't be in a hurry.