What Is to Be Done?

undertone of melancholy in it, which was shown in his face. Viéra Pavlovna, after hearing such sounds, and looking at such an expression of face, began to think, not absolutely, but to a degree; no, not to a degree, but almost absolutely, that her fears had been overestimated; that she had mistaken for a great passion a mere imagination, which would vanish in a few days, without leaving any trace; or, she thought⁠—she did think it, only she felt that it was not so: “No, this is not so; no, it is so”; or she firmly thinks that she thinks so: and she really thinks that it is so; and how can she help thinking so, while she listens to this calm, steady voice, which keeps repeating that there is nothing to be worried about. Peacefully she fell asleep under the influence of this voice; she slept soundly, and she did not dream of the “visitor,” and she woke up late, and after she woke up she felt renewed strength.

XXV

“The best distraction for thoughts is work,” said Viéra Pavlovna to herself, and she was entirely right. “I shall spend every day in the shop until I am cured, and this will help me.” She began to spend the whole day in the shop. The first day she really succeeded in greatly distracting her thoughts; the second day she only tired herself out, but she could not entirely escape from them; on the third she could not get rid of them at all. Thus passed a week.

The struggle was hard. Viéra Pavlovna’s face grew pale, but, by outward appearances, she was entirely calm; she even tried to seem happy, and in this respect she succeeded almost without interruption. But if no one could notice anything, and her paleness were ascribed to some slight ailment, yet Lopukhóf was not deceived; he knew perfectly well how it was; he had no need to look.

“Viérotchka,” he began at the end of a week, “as we are living now, we carry out the old proverb that the cobbler has no boots, and the tailor’s clothes don’t fit him. We are teaching others to live according to our economical principles, but we, ourselves, don’t take it into our heads to arrange our own lives in accordance with them. Isn’t one large household more advantageous than several small ones? I should like to apply this law to our own housekeeping arrangements. If we had lived with somebody, we, and those who lived with us, would have saved almost half of our expenses. I should be able to give up those execrable lessons, which I detest so; my salary from the factory would be enough, and I should get time for relaxation. I could occupy my time with scientific work, and thus have taken up my career again. It is only necessary to find people such as it would be agreeable to live with. What do you think about this?”

Viéra Pavlovna had been looking at her husband with eyes full of suspicion, and burning with indignation just as Kirsánof had looked at him on the day of their theoretical conversation. After he stopped speaking, her face was on fire.

“I beg of you to cease this conversation; it is not becoming.”

“Why so, Viérotchka? I am only speaking about pecuniary advantages; such people as you and I, who are not rich, must not neglect them. My work is hard, and a part of it is even detestable to me.”

“You have no right to speak so to me.” Viéra Pavlovna got up. “I shall not allow you to speak to me in dark words. Dare to speak freely what you mean!”

“I only want to tell you this, Viérotchka: that taking into consideration our advantage, it would be good for us.”

“Again, silence! Who gave you the right to be master over me? I shall despise you!” She ran quickly to her own room and locked the door.

This was their first and their last quarrel.

Till late that night Viéra Pavlovna sat with her door locked; then she returned to her husband’s room.

“My dear,46 I spoke to you very severe words, but do not be angry at them. You see that I am doing my best; instead of helping me, you began to help along what I am struggling against, hoping⁠—yes, hoping⁠—to win the victory.”

“Forgive me, my love,47 for beginning so roughly, but now we are reconciled, aren’t we? Let us talk reasonably.”

“Oh, yes, we are reconciled, my dear. Only don’t act against me. It is hard enough, even as it is, to struggle against myself.”

“And it is useless, Viérotchka; you have had plenty of time to examine your feeling: you have seen that it is more serious than you believed at first. Why torment yourself?”

“No, my dear,48 I want to love you, and I do not want to wrong you.”

“My dear,49 you wish me to be happy. What! do you think that it is pleasant for me to see you keep tormenting yourself?”

“My dear,50 but you love me so!”

“Of course I do, very dearly: there is no need of saying that; but we both understand what love means: does it not consist in the fact that you are happy in the happiness, that you suffer with the suffering, of the one whom you love. When you torment yourself, you torment me.”

“So it is, my dear;51 but you will suffer if I yield to this feeling, which⁠—akh! I cannot understand why it should have come to me; I curse it!”

“It makes no difference how or why it came to you; you cannot help it. Now there is only one choice: either you should suffer, and I suffer also through it, or that you cease to suffer, and I too.”

“But, my dear,52 I am not going to suffer; this will pass away; you will see this pass.”

“Thank you