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 raising her voice. "When my husband, the father of my children, has a love-affair with their governess ...."

".... But what is to be done about it? what is to be done?" said he, interrupting with broken voice, not knowing what he said, and letting his head sink lower and lower.

"You are revolting to me, you are insulting," she cried, with increasing anger. "Your tears are water! You never loved me; you have no heart, no honor. You are abominable, revolting, and henceforth you are a stranger to me,—yes, a perfect stranger," and she repeated with spiteful anger this word "stranger" which was so terrible to her own ears.

He looked at her, and the anger expressed in her face alarmed and surprised him. He had no realizing sense that his pity exasperated his wife. She saw that he felt sympathy for her, but not love. "No, she hates me, she will not forgive me," he said to himself.

"This is terrible, terrible!" he cried.

At this moment one of the children in the next room, having apparently had a fall, began to cry. Darya Aleksandrovna listened and her face suddenly softened. She seemed to collect her thoughts for a few seconds, as if she did not know where she was and what was happening to her, then, quickly rising, she hastened to the door.

"At any rate she loves my child," thought Oblonsky, who had noticed the change in her face as she heard the little one's cry. "My child; how then can she hate me?"

"Dolly! just one word more," he said, following her.

"If you follow me, I will call the domestics, the children! Let them all know that you are infamous! I leave this very day, and you may live here with your paramour."

And she went out and slammed the door.

Stepan Arkadyevitch sighed, wiped his face, and softly left the room.

"Matve says this can be settled; but how? I don't see the possibility. Akh! akh! how terrible! and