her breathing quietly, and in the morning when he waked her with a kiss, express in it his whole love and tenderness. And when his wife returned his embrace so warmly and gratefully, she seemed to be asking his forgiveness. When he looked at her as she went about her occupations and duties during the day with care and thoughtfulness, he fell in love with her afresh, and kissed her as on that first day when he had taken her to their new home. Therefore the constant recurrence of the thought: ‘How much happier we might be if there were yet another being to care for . . .’ was all the more painful to him.
One beautiful afternoon in the summer Ivan returned home earlier than usual from his office. As he had his own latchkey he had no need to ring the bell, and entered unobserved. He put his hat and stick down in his study, and went towards his wife’s room. He did not hear his own step on the thick carpet. . . . Magda had not heard it either.
She hardly had time between the moment of his opening the door and coming up to her, to fold up a letter which she had been reading, and slip it into the envelope. She did it quietly, and Hron did not notice that her
