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346 it helped her a great deal that she was constantly thinking about her husband and constantly thinking with him. She began to notice that whenever this dissatisfaction came to her, it was always accompanied by comparisons. It consisted in the fact that she compares herself with her husband, and here flashed before her a real word expressing her thought, "a difference, an insulting difference." Now she understands.

", how lovely this N. N. is (Viéra Pavlovna named the officer with whom she wanted to become acquainted with Tambulik and Bosio in her dream); he brought me a new poem, which is not soon going to be published," said Viéra Pavlovna at dinner. "Shall we set ourselves to reading it right after dinner? Yes? I have been waiting for you, and I am going to read it all with you, Sasha. And I have been longing to read it."

"What poem is it?"

"Now you shall hear. Let us see if he succeeded in this thing. N. N. says that he—I mean the author—is pretty well satisfied with it."

And so they settle themselves comfortably in her room, and she begins to read:—

"Now I see," said Kirsánof, after listening to a score or so of stanzas; "this is a new style with him; but it is evidently his. Nekrásof's? Yes? I am very grateful to you for waiting for me."

"You ought to be," replied Viéra Pavlovna. Twice they read the little poem over, which, owing to their acquaintance with one of the author's acquaintances, came into their hands three years before it was published.