' It would be useless,' she said timidly,' I think that, too, would be exhausting for me .... I get so tired.'
Piotr Ivanitch bowed his head, walked to the hearth and leaning against it, gazed at her with—what shall we call it —distress, no not only distress, but with fear, anxiety and alarm.
' What is the reason, Liza, of this . . . .' he was beginning, but he did not finish the sentence; the word indifference he could not form on his tongue.
He gazed long in silence at her. In her lifeless, lustreless • eyes, in her face, devoid of all bright play of thought and feeling, in her languid attitude and slow movements, he read the cause of this indifference, about which he feared to inquire; he had guessed the answer already when the doctor had only given him a hint of the danger. He had come to his senses then and began to suspect that while he had fenced his wife in away from any deviation which might have threatened their matrimonial interests, he had not at the same time presented her with any compensations in himself, to make up for the possibly unsanctioned happiness which she might have met outside the pale of marriage—that her home world was nothing more than a prison, thanks to his method, inaccessible to temptation, and unpropitious to any legitimate demonstration of feeling, where she was met at every step by spiked railings and patrols.
The systematic and calculating nature of his behaviour to
her had, without his knowledge or intention, amounted to a
cold and narrow tyranny, and a tyranny over what? a
woman's heart. To make up for th is ^tyranny, hg_had
. - lavishedjaxj^r weateTTuxuiv, alTthe externals, 'and as he
^i inttrffffift tfrf> ~mnHitinng of__hapj)iness—a fearful 'rinsfafce;
v ' ~p the more fearful, because it was committed . not from
ignorance, not from his want of understanding of the heart
-—he knew it—but from negligence, from egoism ! He had
forgotten that she had not a factory, that a capital dinner
and the best wines have almost no significance in the eyes
of a woman, and meanwhile he had set her to live this life.
Piotr Ivanitch had a good heart; and even if not from love for his wife, from a feeling of rectitude alone he would have given anything to correct the wrong he had done; but how to correct it ? He had passed more than one sleepless night since the time the doctor had warned him of the
dangers in regard to his wife's health, trying to find some way of reconciling her to her real position and restoring her drooping strength. And now, standing by the fireplace, he was still ruminating upon it. The idea came i nto hisjiead that perhaps the germs of serious disease were al readyTufltt ng in herT^aT^fe^as^^ingTcilTed Jjy her colourless and empty life.
Xold drops of perspiration stood on his brow. He was quite at a loss for remedies, feeling that the heart was more wanted than the head to devise them. But where was he to get the heart? Something told him that if he could have thrown himself at her feet, and have folded her in his arms with tenderness, and with the voice of passion have told her that he only lived for her, that the aim of all his labours, his cares, his career, his gains, was—she; that his systematic way of behaving with her had only been inspired by a consuming, persistent, jealous desire to bind her heart
to him He knew that such words would have the
effect of galvanism on a corpse, that she would all at once have blossomed into health and happiness.
But saying; and proving are two very different things. To prove this, it would be necessary really to feel passion. And, searching in his soul, Piotr Ivanitch could not find there the least trace of passion.. He felt only that his wife was indispensable •^ttr'him, but like the other indispensable things of life, she was indispensable from habit. Granted that he would be ready to feign feeling, to play the part of a lover, however ridiculous it would be at fifty to begin speaking the language of passion; but will you deceive a woman with passion when there is none? And afterwards, would he have the heroism and ability to sustain this character to the degree which would appease the cravings of the heart ? And would not outraged pride be really fatal to her when she found out that what a few years ago would have been a magic potion for her was offered her now as a medicine ? No, after his fashion he had exactly weighed and considered this late step, and he could not decide on it. He fancied that he would do perhaps the same thing, only differently, in the only way now possible. For three months an idea had been working within him which would have in former days seemed an absurdity to him, but now—it was a very different matter!
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274 ^ COMMON STORY
He kept it for a resource in extremity; the extremity had come, and he decided to carry out the plan.
' If this is no use,' he thought, 'then there is no help for it, come what must! '
Piotr Ivanitch walked with resolute steps up to his wife and took her hand.
' You know, Liza,' he said, ' what a part I play in official life; I am looked on as the most capable secretary in the ministry. This year I shall offer myself for the privy council, and I shall certainly receive a post Do not imagine that my career is ended there; I may go higher still .... and arrive at '
She looked at him puzzled, waiting to know what this was leading up to.
' I never doubted your abilities,' she said. ' I am quite convinced that you will not stop half way, but will reach the highest '
' No, I shall not; in a few days I shall send in my resignation.'
' ResiguatiflJL? ' she said in astonishment, starting up.
. 'What for?'
14 1 have more to tell you; you know that I have made an arrangement with my partners, and the factory belongs to me alone. It brings me in forty thousand nett profit without any trouble. It goes like a machine wound up.'
' I know; what of it ? ' inquired Lizaveta Alexandrovna.
' I am giving it up.'
' What are you talking about, Piotr Ivanitch ? What is the matter with you?' said Lizaveta Alexandrovna with increasing amazement, looking at him in dismay; <( what is this for? I don't comprehend, I can't understand.'
' Can you really not understand ? '
-'No 1' said Lizaveta Alexandrovna in perplexity.
' Cannot you understand that, seeing how depressed you
are, how your health is suffering .... from the climate, I
don't think much of my career and my factory, if I cannot
take you away from here, and devote the remainder of my
1-days to you . . • . Liza! did you think me incapable of
sacrifice ? ' he added, reproachfully.
' So it is for my sake!' said Lizaveta Alexandrovna, still bewildered, ' no, Piotr Ivanitch 1' she added earnestly,
deeply moved, ' for God's sake, no sacrifices for me! I will not accept it—do you hear ? I absolutely will not! For you to give up working, growing rich and distinguished —and for my sake ! God forbid! I cannot bear this sacrifice ! Forgive me; I was too petty for you, too worthless, too weak to understand and appreciate your lofty aims
and noble labours You should not have had such a
wife.'
' Magnanimity still!' said Piotr Ivanitch, shrugging his shoulders. ' My intentions are not to be altered, Liza !'
' Good God! what have I done ! I was thrown like a stone across your path, I am a hindrance to you. What a singular fate !' she added, almost in desperation. If I am not wanted, if I am not needed in life .... will not God have pity on me, will He not take me ? To be a hindrance to you '
' You are wrong in supposing this sacrifice is hard for me to make. I have had enough of this wooden
