"Just look at that now! She finds time for wheedling me, the little cow!..." grumbled Grischka, pretending to push her away from him. But she knew very well that he would not do so, and pressed closer against him.
Then his eyes would suddenly brighten; he would throw his work on one side, take her on his knee, and kiss her long and passionately; at the same time sighing deeply and low, as if he feared that some one might hear him, whilst he whispered in her ear—
"Ah, Motrja! here we are living like cat and dog together ... we tear each other like wild beasts; why is that so?... It seems to be my fate.... Every man it seems is born under a certain star, and that star is his fate."
But this explanation was but poor comfort, and whilst he clasped his wife closer to him, he fell into a dull state of despondency. For a long time they sat thus in the dim twilight, surrounded by the oppressive atmosphere of their cellar. Matrona only sighed and was silent Sometimes however at these happy moments, the memory of her undeserved sufferings and blows came across her and she would begin to cry and sob softly. Her gentle reproaches moved him, and his caresses became more and more warm. She however would go on complaining, and make statements which finally exhausted his patience.
"Shut up with your whining!" he cried harshly; "I suffer, very likely, a thousand times more than you do, when I beat you.... Now be quiet, will you? If one gives in the least bit to a woman, she will take advantage of you at once. Leave off reproaching me! What is a man to do whose life is a burden to him?"
Another time, perhaps, his heart would melt under the torrent of her tears, and pitiful complaints. Then he would say humbly and thoughtfully—
"What on earth am I to do, with the unfortunate disposition that I possess? I have hurt you often, that is certain.... I know very well that you are the only one in the world who cares for me, though I often seem to forget it But it's like this, Motrja; sometimes it seems as if I could no longer bear the sight of you ... as if I had had enough of you for ever. And then, such a rage comes into my soul, as if I could tear you and myself to pieces; and the more you are in the right, the stronger the desire grows in me to beat you."
She did not quite understand what he meant to express; but the contrite, loving tone in which he spoke, touched her deeply.
"God grant that we may both improve; that we may grow used to each other," she said. "Perhaps it would be better if we had a child ... then we should have something to care for, and to interest us," she continued with a sigh.
"Well then, bring one into the world!"