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- Стр. 1218/1273
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"
Mary
,
do
n't
talk
nonsense
.
You
ought
to
be
ashamed
of
yourself
!
"
he
said
gaily
.
"
It
seems
to
be
that
you
ca
n't
love
me
,
that
I
am
so
plain
...
always
...
and
now
...
in
this
cond
...
"
"
Oh
,
how
absurd
you
are
!
It
is
not
beauty
that
endears
,
it
's
love
that
makes
us
see
beauty
.
It
is
only
Malvínas
and
women
of
that
kind
who
are
loved
for
their
beauty
.
But
do
I
love
my
wife
?
I
do
n't
love
her
,
but
...
I
do
n't
know
how
to
put
it
.
Without
you
,
or
when
something
comes
between
us
like
this
,
I
seem
lost
and
ca
n't
do
anything
.
Now
do
I
love
my
finger
?
I
do
n't
love
it
,
but
just
try
to
cut
it
off
!
"
"
I
'm
not
like
that
myself
,
but
I
understand
.
So
you
're
not
angry
with
me
?
"
"
Awfully
angry
!
"
he
said
,
smiling
and
getting
up
.
And
smoothing
his
hair
he
began
to
pace
the
room
.
"
Do
you
know
,
Mary
,
what
I
've
been
thinking
?
"
he
began
,
immediately
thinking
aloud
in
his
wife
's
presence
now
that
they
had
made
it
up
.
He
did
not
ask
if
she
was
ready
to
listen
to
him
.
He
did
not
care
.
A
thought
had
occurred
to
him
and
so
it
belonged
to
her
also
.
And
he
told
her
of
his
intention
to
persuade
Pierre
to
stay
with
them
till
spring
.
Countess
Mary
listened
till
he
had
finished
,
made
some
remark
,
and
in
her
turn
began
thinking
aloud
.
Her
thoughts
were
about
the
children
.
"
You
can
see
the
woman
in
her
already
,
"
she
said
in
French
,
pointing
to
little
Natásha
.
"
You
reproach
us
women
with
being
illogical
.
Here
is
our
logic
.
I
say
:
'
Papa
wants
to
sleep
!
'
but
she
says
,
'
No
,
he
's
laughing
.
'
And
she
was
right
,
"
said
Countess
Mary
with
a
happy
smile
.
