hand, pushed it away from her,
and said in the same tone:

"Don't you dare to touch me. I will not allow you to come near me!"

Her eyes became smaller and their sharp, metallic glitter sobered Ignat.
He understood by her face that she, too, was a strong beast, and if she
chose to she wouldn't admit him to her, even though she were to lose her
life.

"Oh," he growled, and went away.

But having retreated once, he would not do it again: he could not bear
that a woman, and his wife at that, should not bow before him--this
would have degraded him. He then began to realise that henceforth his
wife would never yield to him in any matter, and that an obstinate
strife for predominance must start between them.

"Very well! We'll see who will conquer," he thought the next day,
watching his wife with stern curiosity; and in his soul a strong desire
was already raging to start the strife, that he might enjoy his victory
the sooner.

But about four days later, Natalya Fominichna announced to her husband
that she was pregnant.

Ignat trembled for joy, embraced her firmly, and said in a dull voice:

"You're a fine fellow, Natalya! Natasha, if it should be a son! If you
bear me a son I'll enrich you! I tell you plainly, I'll be your slave!
By God! I'll lie down at your feet, and you may trample upon me, if you
like!"

"This is not within our power; it's the will of the Lord," said she in a
low voice.

"Yes, the Lord's!" exclaimed Ignat with bitterness and drooped his head
sadly.

From that moment he began to look after his wife as though she were a
little child.

"Why do you sit near the window? Look out. You'll catch cold in your
side; you may take sick," he used to say to her, both sternly and
mildly. "Why do you skip on the staircase? You may hurt yourself. And
you had better eat more, eat for two, that he may have enough."

And the pregnancy made Natalya more morose and silent, as though she
were looking still deeper into herself, absorbed in the throbbing of new
life within her. But the smile on her lips became clearer, and in her
eyes flashed at times something new, weak and timid, like the first ray
of the dawn.

When, at last, the time of confinement came, it was early on an autumn
morning. At the first cry of pain she uttered, Ignat turned pale and
started to say something, but only waved his hand and left the bedroom,
where his wife was shrinking convulsively, and went down to the little
room which had s