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Автор: Leo Tolstoy

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"Ah, let me alone, let me alone!" she said, and going back to her
bedroom she sat down in the same place as she had sat when
talking to her husband, clasping tightly her thin hands with the
rings that slipped down on her bony fingers, and fell to going
over in her memory all the conversation. "He has gone! But has he
broken it off with her?" she thought. "Can it be he sees her? Why
didn't I ask him! No, no, reconciliation is impossible. Even if
we remain in the same house, we are strangers-strangers forever!"
She repeated again with special significance the word so dreadful
to her. "And how I loved him! my God, how I loved him!... How I
loved him! And now don't I love him? Don't I love him more than
before? The most horrible thing is," she began, but did not
finish her thought, because Matrona Philimonovna put her head in
at the door.
"Let us send for my brother," she said; "he can get a dinner
anyway, or we shall have the children getting nothing to eat till
six again, like yesterday."

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