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"You remember the children, Stiva, to play with them; but I

remember them, and know that this means their ruin," she

said-obviously one of the phrases she had more than once repeated

to herself in the course of the last few days.

She had called him "Stiva," and he glanced at her with gratitude,

and moved to take her hand, but she drew back from him with

aversion.

"I think of the children, and for that reason I would do anything

in the world to save them, but I don't myself know how to save

them. By taking them away from their father, or by leaving them

with a vicious father-yes, a vicious father.... Tell me, after

what ... has happened, can we live together? Is that possible?

Tell me, eh, is it possible?" she repeated, raising her voice,

"after my husband, the father of my children, enters into a love

affair with his own children's governess?"

"But what could I do? what could I do?" he kept saying in a

pitiful voice, not knowing what he was saying, as his head sank

lower and lower.