He did not understand that one might desire incidents, have a longing for changing pleasures; he did not understand that it does not seem natural to certain beings to remain in the same place during the four seasons; he seemed not to know that spring, summer, autumn, and winter have, for multitudes of persons, fresh amusements in new places.
She could say nothing in reply, and she quickly dried her eyes. At last she murmured in a despairing tone:
“I am—I—I am a little sad—I am a little bored.”
But she was terrified at having even said so much, and added very quickly:
“And, besides—I am—I am a little cold.”
This last plea made him angry.
“Ah! yes, still your idea of the furnace. But look here, deuce take it! you have not had one cold since you came here.”
Night came on. She went up to her room, for she had insisted on having a separate apartment. She went to bed. Even in bed she felt cold. She thought:
“It will be always like this, always, until I die.”
And she thought of her husband. How could he have said: