She faltered:
“It might distract us a little.”
He did not understand.
“What is it you want to distract you? Theatres, evening parties, dinners in town? You knew, however, when you came here, that you ought not to expect any distractions of this kind!”
She saw a reproach in these words, and in the tone in which they were uttered. She relapsed into silence. She was timid and gentle, without resisting power and without strength of will.
In January the cold weather returned with violence. Then the snow covered the earth.
One evening, as she watched the great black cloud of crows dispersing among the trees, she began to weep, in spite of herself.
Her husband came in. He asked in great surprise:
“What is the matter with you?”
He was happy, quite happy, never having dreamed of another life or other pleasures. He had been born and had grown up in this melancholy district. He felt contented in his own house, at ease in body and mind.