"Yes, I will arrange it," she decided, and going back to her

former thoughts, she remembered that some spiritual question of

importance had been interrupted, and she began to recall what.

"Yes, Kostya, an unbeliever," she thought again with a smile.

"Well, an unbeliever then! Better let him always be one than

like Madame Stahl, or what I tried to be in those days abroad.

No, he won't ever sham anything."

And a recent instance of his goodness rose vividly to her mind.

A fortnight ago a penitent letter had come from Stepan

Arkadyevitch to Dolly. He besought her to save his honor, to

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sell her estate to pay his debts. Dolly was in despair, she

detested her husband, despised him, pitied him, resolved on a

separation, resolved to refuse, but ended by agreeing to sell

part of her property. After that, with an irrepressible smile of

tenderness, Kitty recalled her husband's shamefaced

embarrassment, his repeated awkward efforts to approach the

subject, and how at last, having thought of the one means of

helping Dolly without wounding her pride, he had suggested to

Kitty--what had not occurred to her before--that she should give

up her share of the property.

"He an unbeliever indeed! With his heart, his dread of offending

anyone, even a child! Everything for others, nothing for

himself. Sergey Ivanovitch simply considers it as Kostya's duty

to be his steward. And it's the same with his sister. Now Dolly

and her children are under his guardianship; all these peasants

who come to him every day, as though he were bound to be at their

service."

"Yes, only be like your father, only like him," she said, handing

Mitya over to the nurse, and putting her lips to his cheek.




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