"Anna Arkadyevna, he has come. Here he is!" said the midwife,

trying to attract her attention to Alexey Alexandrovitch.

"Oh, what nonsense!" Anna went on, not seeing her husband. "No,

give her to me; give me my little one! He has not come yet. You

say he won't forgive me, because you don't know him. No one

knows him. I'm the only one, and it was hard for me even. His

eyes I ought to know--Seryozha has just the same eyes--and I

can't bear to see them because of it. Has Seryozha had his

dinner? I know everyone will forget him. He would not forget.

Seryozha must be moved into the corner room, and Mariette must be

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asked to sleep with him."

All of a sudden she shrank back, was silent; and in terror, as

though expecting a blow, as though to defend herself, she raised

her hands to her face. She had seen her husband.

"No, no!" she began. "I am not afraid of him; I am afraid of

death. Alexey, come here. I am in a hurry, because I've no

time, I've not long left to live; the fever will begin directly

and I shall understand nothing more. Now I understand, I

understand it all, I see it all!"

Alexey Alexandrovitch's wrinkled face wore an expression of

agony; he took her by the hand and tried to say something, but he

could not utter it; his lower lip quivered, but he still went on

struggling with his emotion, and only now and then glanced at

her. And each time he glanced at her, he saw her eyes gazing at

him with such passionate and triumphant tenderness as he had

never seen in them.

"Wait a minute, you don't know...stay a little, stay!..." She

stopped, as though collecting her ideas. "Yes," she began; "yes,

yes, yes. This is what I wanted to say. Don't be surprised at

me. I'm still the same.... But there is another woman in me,

I'm afraid of her: she loved that man, and I tried to hate you,

and could not forget about her that used to be. I'm not that

woman. Now I'm my real self, all myself. I'm dying now, I know

I shall die, ask him. Even now I feel--see here, the weights on

my feet, on my hands, on my fingers. My fingers--see how huge

they are! But this will soon all be over.... Only one thing I

want: forgive me, forgive me quite. I'm terrible, but my nurse

used to tell me; the holy martyr--what was her name? She was

worse. And I'll go to Rome; there's a wilderness, and there I

shall be no trouble to any one, only I'll take Seryozha and the

little one.... No, you can't forgive me! I know, it can't be

forgiven! No, no, go away, you're too good!" She held his hand

in one burning hand, while she pushed him away with the other.




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