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He
lay
down
on
the
sofa
meaning
to
fall
asleep
and
forget
all
that
had
happened
to
him
,
but
could
not
do
so
.
Such
a
storm
of
feelings
,
thoughts
,
and
memories
suddenly
arose
within
him
that
he
could
not
fall
asleep
,
nor
even
remain
in
one
place
,
but
had
to
jump
up
and
pace
the
room
with
rapid
steps
.
Now
he
seemed
to
see
her
in
the
early
days
of
their
marriage
,
with
bare
shoulders
and
a
languid
,
passionate
look
on
her
face
,
and
then
immediately
he
saw
beside
her
Dólokhov
's
handsome
,
insolent
,
hard
,
and
mocking
face
as
he
had
seen
it
at
the
banquet
,
and
then
that
same
face
pale
,
quivering
,
and
suffering
,
as
it
had
been
when
he
reeled
and
sank
on
the
snow
.
"
What
has
happened
?
"
he
asked
himself
.
"
I
have
killed
her
lover
,
yes
,
killed
my
wife
's
lover
.
Yes
,
that
was
it
!
And
why
?
How
did
I
come
to
do
it
?
"
--
"
Because
you
married
her
,
"
answered
an
inner
voice
.
"
But
in
what
was
I
to
blame
?
"
he
asked
.
"
In
marrying
her
without
loving
her
;
in
deceiving
yourself
and
her
.
"
And
he
vividly
recalled
that
moment
after
supper
at
Prince
Vasíli
's
,
when
he
spoke
those
words
he
had
found
so
difficult
to
utter
:
"
I
love
you
.
"
"
It
all
comes
from
that
!
Even
then
I
felt
it
,
"
he
thought
.
"
I
felt
then
that
it
was
not
so
,
that
I
had
no
right
to
do
it
.
And
so
it
turns
out
.
"
He
remembered
his
honeymoon
and
blushed
at
the
recollection
.
Particularly
vivid
,
humiliating
,
and
shameful
was
the
recollection
of
how
one
day
soon
after
his
marriage
he
came
out
of
the
bedroom
into
his
study
a
little
before
noon
in
his
silk
dressing
gown
and
found
his
head
steward
there
,
who
,
bowing
respectfully
,
looked
into
his
face
and
at
his
dressing
gown
and
smiled
slightly
,
as
if
expressing
respectful
understanding
of
his
employer
's
happiness
.
"
But
how
often
I
have
felt
proud
of
her
,
proud
of
her
majestic
beauty
and
social
tact
,
"
thought
he
;
"
been
proud
of
my
house
,
in
which
she
received
all
Petersburg
,
proud
of
her
unapproachability
and
beauty
.
So
this
is
what
I
was
proud
of
!
I
then
thought
that
I
did
not
understand
her
.
How
often
when
considering
her
character
I
have
told
myself
that
I
was
to
blame
for
not
understanding
her
,
for
not
understanding
that
constant
composure
and
complacency
and
lack
of
all
interests
or
desires
,
and
the
whole
secret
lies
in
the
terrible
truth
that
she
is
a
depraved
woman
.
Now
I
have
spoken
that
terrible
word
to
myself
all
has
become
clear
.
"
Anatole
used
to
come
to
borrow
money
from
her
and
used
to
kiss
her
naked
shoulders
.
She
did
not
give
him
the
money
,
but
let
herself
be
kissed
.
Her
father
in
jest
tried
to
rouse
her
jealousy
,
and
she
replied
with
a
calm
smile
that
she
was
not
so
stupid
as
to
be
jealous
:
'
Let
him
do
what
he
pleases
,
'
she
used
to
say
of
me
.
One
day
I
asked
her
if
she
felt
any
symptoms
of
pregnancy
.
She
laughed
contemptuously
and
said
she
was
not
a
fool
to
want
to
have
children
,
and
that
she
was
not
going
to
have
any
children
by
me
.
"
Then
he
recalled
the
coarseness
and
bluntness
of
her
thoughts
and
the
vulgarity
of
the
expressions
that
were
natural
to
her
,
though
she
had
been
brought
up
in
the
most
aristocratic
circles
.
"
I
'm
not
such
a
fool
...
Just
you
try
it
on
...
Allez-vous
promener
,
"
*
she
used
to
say
.
Often
seeing
the
success
she
had
with
young
and
old
men
and
women
Pierre
could
not
understand
why
he
did
not
love
her
.
