e and
mine. It always seemed to me we were equally well off. And that I
have been deceitful in little things, that . . . of course, is true.
My life has hitherto been arranged in such a frivolous way that it
has somehow been impossible to get on without paltry lying. It
weighs on me, too, now. . . . Let us leave off talking about it,
for goodness' sake!"

Olga Mihalovna again felt in acute pain, and clutched her husband
by the sleeve.

"I am in pain, in pain, in pain . . ." she said rapidly. "Oh, what
pain!"

"Damnation take those visitors!" muttered Pyotr Dmitritch, getting
up. "You ought not to have gone to the island to-day!" he cried.
"What an idiot I was not to prevent you! Oh, my God!"

He scratched his head in vexation, and, with a wave of his hand,
walked out of the room.

Then he came into the room several times, sat down on the bed beside
her, and talked a great deal, sometimes tenderly, sometimes angrily,
but she hardly heard him. Her sobs were continually interrupted by
fearful attacks of pain, and each time the pain was more acute and
prolonged. At first she held her breath and bit the pillow during
the pain, but then she began screaming on an unseemly piercing note.
Once seeing her husband near her, she remembered that she had
insulted him, and without pausing to think whether it were really
Pyotr Dmitritch or whether she were in delirium, clutched his hand
in both hers and began kissing it.

"You were lying, I was lying . . ." she began justifying herself.
"Understand, understand. . . . They have exhausted me, driven me
out of all patience."

"Olya, we are not alone," said Pyotr Dmitritch.

Olga Mihalovna raised her head and saw Varvara, who was kneeling
by the chest of drawers and pulling out the bottom drawer. The top
drawers were already open. Then Varvara got up, red from the strained
position, and with a cold, solemn face began trying to unlock a
box.

"Marya, I can't unlock it!" she said in a whisper. "You unlock it,
won't you?"

Marya, the maid, was digging a candle end out of the candlestick
with a pair of scissors, so as to put in a new candle; she went up
to Varvara and helped her to unlock the box.

"There should be nothing locked . . ." whispered Varvara. "Unlock
this basket, too, my good girl. Master," she said, "you should send
to Father Mihail to unlock the holy gates! You must!"

"Do what you like," said Pyotr Dmitritch, breathing hard, "only,
for God's sake, make haste