Don Quixote

own children's
governess...."
"But what's to be done? What's to be done?" he kept saying in a
pitiful voice, not knowing what he was saying, as his head sank
lower and lower.
"You are loathsome to me, repulsive!" she shrieked, getting more and
more heated. "Your tears mean nothing! You have never loved me; you
have neither a heart nor a sense of honor! You are hateful to me,
disgusting, a stranger- yes, a complete stranger!" With pain and wrath
she uttered the word so terrible to herself- stranger.
He looked at her, and the fury expressed in her face alarmed and
amazed him. He did not understand that it was his pity for her that
exasperated her. She saw in him compassion for her, but not love. "No,
she hates me. She will not forgive me," he thought.
"It is awful Awful!" he said.
{PART_ONE|CHAPTER_IV ^paragraph 25}
At that moment in the next room a child began to cry; probably it
had fallen down. Darya Alexandrovna listened, and her face suddenly
softened.
She seemed pulling herself together for a few seconds, as though she
did not know where she was nor what she was doing, and, getting up
rapidly, she moved toward the door.
"Well, she loves my child," he thought, noticing the change of her
face at the child's cry, "my child: how can she hate me then?"
"Dolly, one word more," he said, following her.
"If you follow me, I will call in the servants, and the children!
Let them all know you are a scoundrel! I am going away at once, and
you may live here with your mistress!"
{PART_ONE|CHAPTER_IV ^paragraph 30}
And she went out, slamming the door.
Stepan Arkadyevich sighed, mopped his face, and with a subdued tread
walked out of the room. "Matvei says everything will come round; but
how? I don't see the least chance of it. Ah, ah, how horrible it is!
And how vulgarly she shouted," he said to himself, remembering her
shrieks and the words- "scoundrel" and "mistress." "And very likely
the maids were listening! Horribly vulgar, horribly." Stepan
Arkadyevich stood a few seconds alone, wiped his eyes, thrust out
his chest and walked out of the room.
It was Friday, and in the dining room the watchmaker, a German,
was winding up the clock. Stepan Arkadyevich remembered his joke about
this punctual, bald watchmaker, "that the German was wound up for a
whole lifetime himself, to wind up watches," and he smiled. Stepan
Arkadyevich was fond of a nice joke. "And maybe it will come round!"
That's a good expression, 'come round,' he thought. "I must tell
that."
"Matvei!" he shouted. "Arrange everything with Marya in the
sitting room for Anna Arkadyevna," he said to Matvei when he came in.
"Yes, sir."
{PART_ONE|CHAPTER_IV ^paragraph 35}
Stepan Arkadyevich put on his fur coat and went out on the front
steps.
"You won't dine at home?" said Matvei, seeing him off.
"It all depends. But here's for the housekeeping," he