as she
was weakened by the fatigue of the struggle, while he became brutal,
intoxicated by desire.

They lived together as man and wife, and one morning he said to her: "I
have put up our banns, and we will get married next month."

She did not reply, for what could she say? She did not resist, for what
could she do?

PART IV

She married him. She felt as if she were in a pit with inaccessible
edges, from which she could never get out, and all kinds of misfortunes
remained hanging over her head, like huge rocks, which would fall on the
first occasion. Her husband gave her the impression of a man whom she
had stolen, and who would find it out some day or other. And then she
thought of her child, who was the cause of her misfortunes, but who was
also the cause of all her happiness on earth, and whom she went to see
twice a year, though she came back more unhappy each time. But she
gradually grew accustomed to her life, her fears were allayed, her heart
was at rest, and she lived with an easier mind, though still with some
vague fear floating in her mind, and so years went on, and the child was
six. She was almost happy now, when suddenly the farmer's temper grew
very bad.

For two or three years he seemed to have been nursing some secret
anxiety, to be trouble by some care, some mental disturbance, which was
gradually increasing. He remained at table a long time after dinner,
with his head in his hands, sad and devoured by sorrow. He always spoke
hastily, sometimes even brutally, and it even seemed as if he bore a
grudge against his wife, for at times he answered her roughly, almost
angrily.

One day, when a neighbor's boy came for some eggs, and she spoke very
crossly to him, as she was very busy, her husband suddenly came in, and
said to her in his unpleasant voice: "If that were your own child you
would not treat him so." She was hurt, and did not reply, and then she
went back into the house, with all her grief awakened afresh, and at
dinner, the farmer neither spoke to her, nor looked at her, and he
seemed to hate her, to despise her, to know something about the affair
at last. In consequence, she lost her head, and did not venture to
remain alone with him after the meal was over, but she left the room
and hastened to the church.

It was getting dusk; the narrow nave was in total darkness, but she
heard footsteps in the choir, for the sacristan was preparing the
tabernacle lamp for the night. That spot of