IV + 

Tatiana Pavlovna Ostapenko and the servant, Katya, bent side by side over washtubs, looked like a sow and a hind feeding side by side from one trough. Both wore the same kind of headkerchief and faded blue cotton bodice and skirt. But Tatiana bent like someone finding flowers at her feet, and Katya bent like a bear offering a goblin a ride on its back. + 

A young man watched them from the shade of the wide tree that stood behind the village at the junction of three footpaths across the barley and bean fields. The young man, Piotr Gavrilovitch Isaev, almost wished that Tatiana would never turn round. He knew her face so well and was so much afraid of it. Yet he whistledтБатАФdo-mi-doтБатАФhis old call to her, and she turned. He knew she would make no gesture of enthusiasm. She looked at him across fifty yards of shimmering evening sunlight for a long moment and then flapped her hand toward him with an abashed, rather rigid, gesture. He watched her talk for a minute to Katya as she dried her hands on her apron. Then Katya went into the house and Tatiana walked along the raised footpath toward the young man under the tree. He could see her exquisite pale face, her russet hair dragged tightly from her forehead under the kerchief, her rather sunken light eyes, now twitching with nervousness. Twice, as she approached, she smiled, as though rehearsing a smileтБатАФjust a little abrupt delicate grinтБатАФa tautening and an instant slackening of her cheeks. It was a smile that seemed to mean nothing but a good intention, and was obliterated like a duty done. As soon as she reached him her expression changed like a changing light on her face, and she said, тАЬForgive me, dear Piotr Gavrilovitch. I have forgotten something; I must go back to the washing for a minute.тАЭ She turned away from him at once and began walking back along the footpath, as a ladybird hurrying along a leaf, on being turned round, walks just as industriously the other way. + 

Young Isaev, for a moment taken aback, caught up with her in three strides. тАЬWhatтАЩs the matter, Tatiana Pavlovna? I want to tell you something. WonтАЩt you come and sit in the shade of the tree for half an hour?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, of course I will, presently, dear Petya. I must do something I had forgotten, first.тАЭ + 

She always called people dear in a cold voice. Like her twitched-on, twitched-off smile, the dear was a sort of concession, kind yet shy, to humanity. She walked back to the washtubs and Piotr walked beside her. + 

тАЬMy aunt heard from my cousin Sasha Weber this morning,тАЭ said Piotr, after wondering for a moment what to say. + 

тАЬDid he find the world as wide as he expected?тАЭ asked Tatiana. + 

тАЬHe hasnтАЩt been all over it yet, Tanya, so he canтАЩt tell. He has only reached Pa-tao-kou.тАЭ + 

тАЬOh,тАЭ said Tatiana, with her apologetic smile. She minded very much when her questions evoked dead answers. They often did. She tried to join in the talk in the manner of other talkers, but so often the talk mysteriously died of her gentle intervention. I think that a remark of hers, though dressed in the trappings of ordinary convenient comment, was often like a fairy coming into a room full of flesh-and-blood men and women. There was the fairy, in no tangible way different from themselves, dressed like themselves, walking, moving like themselves, yet somehow accompanied by cold airs, aloof, terrifying, humiliating. And one man finds that he has forgotten a letter he meant to write, another that he has a business appointment, another that he promised to take the dog for a walkтБатАКтБатАж and so the poor fairy is left aloneтБатАФnot rudely but inexorablyтБатАФleft alone, looking itself up and down in the mirror, wondering what was wrongтБатАКтБатАж wondering how they knew.тБатАКтБатАж + 

Tatiana looked at Piotr with remorse, and saw uneasiness in his pink face. His face was ugly and anxious; his brassy hair and eyelashes looked lighter in tone than his face; his nose was sunburnt, prominent, and fat. TatianaтАЩs ready, cold pity was aroused by the tight puckered skin that enclosed his hurt feelings. She thought of the skull inside that skinтБатАФsensitive to a blow; of the brain inside that skullтБатАФprotesting, defensive, bewildered, also afraid of assault. She saw him as a besieged creature in a fortress, marshaling its defenses against her. She felt as if she were trespassing against her will on something almost unbearably sacred, by simply seeing his face. She was seeing too much. Poor Piotr! this is not the way young girls should see young menтБатАФyet so it was! Tatiana, however, though only eighteen, was wise enough not to put her compassion into words. + 

She could not think of anything else to put into words, either. She always boggled over words, and would not have recognized the properly girlish ones, even if they had occurred to her. Nor was she interested enough in spanning this giddy space between herself and Piotr to risk anything for the sake of building a bridge over it. She did not know how to approach him; she could not bear that he should approach her. Her body she did not know, but in her mind she was fanatically virgin. Every approach was a danger, she could not have explained why. And yet she must be allowed to trespass secretly upon her neighbors; she must have hostages in many camps; she must send herself often far away from home to be a protesting prisoner in other bodies. A little pang in everyoneтАЩs pain seemed hers, just as a lambтАЩs leaping, an impudent flirt of a free birdтАЩs wing, so often seemed part of her vicarious youthтБатАФa word she herself had known but left unspoken, a satisfaction in itself, like a flattery. Perhaps she was an egoistтБатАФan egoist whose center had slippedтБатАФan egoist whose ego had spilled over, tainted too much. She was like a person who lived on a mountain instead of in her own house. That was poor PiotrтАЩs trouble, though he did not know itтБатАФTatiana was never at home, waiting inside herself for visitors, as other young people areтБатАФwaiting behind her own thresholdтБатАФwatching out of her own eyes. You might callтБатАФTanya, TanyaтБатАФat her pretty ear, and her voice would reply, as it were, from a long way off. Her sight was unglazed by eyes and therefore too coldly clearтБатАФlike frosty air as you come out too early in the dawn from your smoky house. Tanya, Tanya, you might call, posturing before her window, but she would be away, watching you quietly from the hill, seeing you, not as you, but as a little far part of herself, dancing in the distance. + 

She was both too far and too near. She loved her neighbor as herself because she found herself in her neighbor, but if you were her neighbor, you found that she loved you no better than herselfтБатАФand therefore not at all. + 

What a detestable advantage it gave her, to be high on the hill, safe, away from home, yet near enough to hear, with her remote cold senses, your heart beating. How wrong that she should claim to have the key to your lock and yet, herself, present no lock, no door, no house, even, for your unlocking. And yet her face and body were so lovely that you must love them even more than you hated her passionless mind and heartтБатАФyou could not help callingтБатАФTanya, TanyaтБатАФbefore the empty windows of a deserted house at the foot of the hill, hoping always to lure her home, inside herself, to welcome you in at last. + 

She had a smile that pulled the corners of her lips up and the corners of her eyes down, but it was never meant for you, except secondarily; when you smiled in reply, hers vanished, was twitched away. + 

Tatiana did not know that she lived on a hill; she only knew that she had no neighbors; her neighbors all must harbor her, but she had no neighbors. To be approached was entirely unbearable; a desiring or acute glance was in itself an assault; see she must, but to be seen was somehow insult. She loathed touch and always avoided it; the lightest accidental touch rasped her like a catтАЩs tongue. Love of her neighbor was a thing felt stilly, thinly diffused among pitied loversтБатАФpuppiesтБатАФparentsтБатАФflowersтБатАФinsectsтБатАФeven things (she often felt guilty for disappointing things)тБатАФeven invented thingsтБатАФblank pensioners of her compassionate fancy. She drew no ecstasy except through her eyes. And she felt a little giddy always because she saw so many things and had so little known selfтБатАФor such a wide, unknown selfтБатАФout of which to see them. She saw now, as she walked, a collapsing hourglass of blue sky. She watched clouds crushing it in, and a sand of light spill out of it. Then, as she came to the washtub, her attention swooped suddenly to the reason of her returnтБатАФa woolly-bear caterpillar, swimming in the suds. It had been swimming there for some timeтБатАФnot exactly swimming, for it was too light to break through the soapy skin of the water, and occasionally it found a sodden island of linen to walk across. Its fur was dry, but it looked exhausted. Tatiana, most of whose diversions of the mind were curiously cruel, had dared herself to let it nearly drown so that its relief at ultimate rescue might be the more glorious. Then PiotrтАЩs whistle had made her forget itтБатАФmade her prolong the poor insectтАЩs ordeal more than she had intended. She put her finger under it now and caught it up to safety. She laid her finger against a blade of grass and, when the caterpillar had found its footing on its own world, she knelt down and watched it. She was imagining its incredulous delight. Piotr, puzzled, knelt down beside her. They looked as if they were about to pray together. + 

тАЬBut what did you come back for, Tanya?тАЭ + 

тАЬFor this.тАЭ + 

тАЬFor what? This slug?тАЭ + 

тАЬWellтБатАКтБатАж I left it drowning. I forgot it for the moment. Then I rememberedтБатАФso I had to come back.тАЭ + 

тАЬButтБатАФoh, TanyaтБатАФa caterpillar! When I told you I had something to tell you! DonтАЩt be so foolish, for GodтАЩs sake, Tanya; donтАЩt be so cold. Listen to meтБатАФdonтАЩt laugh at me.тАЭ + 

He looked at her and could not pretend to himself that she was even paying him the compliment of laughing at him. Nor was he sure that she was listening. She was breathlessly following the caterpillarтАЩs course. It rippled earnestly along like a little machine running on concealed wheels well provided with shock-absorbers. + 

Piotr uttered a mild curse and then, seizing an empty glass jar that had contained washing soda, he placed it upside down over the caterpillar, involving that unlucky insect in yet another unmerited dilemma. + 

тАЬTanya, I believe IтАЩm gladтБатАФIтАЩm glad that you are so contrary and unkind. It makes it easier to say these things to you. Listen, I donтАЩt want to stay in Mi-san any moreтБатАФI donтАЩt want to see your face any more.тБатАКтБатАж IтАЩm tired of your face. ThereтАЩs something wrong with it; though it is so pretty, thereтАЩs no heart behind it. Listen, TanyaтБатАФdonтАЩt look at that damned bugтБатАФlisten. IтАЩm going away. There was no reason why you should have treated me soтБатАФwe were betrothed. There is nothing to keep us apart now, except your own hard heart. That and my feeling of being tired of you, of course. You have lost something by your hardheartedness, I can tell you. Some day you will be sorry. You are kinder to that caterpillar than to a man, Tanya. I can tell you, some girls know a manтАЩs value better. Once lost, I am lost forever. You will be sorry.тБатАКтБатАж What do you expect? No man of flesh and blood can go on forever loving a girl that only smiles atтБатАФcaterpillars. What is the matter with you, that you hold yourself so much above love? What else is there for you? Do you want to live and die alone?тАЭ + 

тАЬNoтБатАФnoтБатАФPetya,тАЭ she said at once in tears. The word тАЬaloneтАЭ had a terrible sound to her. Yet she had no defense against it, because the reality, loneliness, was her rightтБатАФher unassailable pride. To live and die alone was like living and dying on a throne; she took her queenship so much for granted that she did not know of it. It was only the word тАЬaloneтАЭ that had such a cruel, insulting soundтБатАФsynonymous with undefended. Her wordless diffused egoism demanded defense against all that was implied by the word тАЬalone.тАЭ A queen has a right to be defended. Yet, of course, Tatiana defended herselfтБатАФshe would have resented that intrusion, actual defense. Perhaps she needed fairy counselors and was only offered lovers. Perhaps she needed the comfort of God and was only offered the love of men. At any rate, the word тАЬaloneтАЭ made her cry. Live and die alone. It was uttered like a threat and therefore it made her cryтБатАФjust as the words be crowned a queen, uttered portentously, might make a queen-beginner cry. Words, heard by the ear, bring tears from the eyes. But hearts are left firm on their thrones, deep down, beyond the reach of threats and tears. AloneтБатАФhow ugly a word! AloneтБатАФhow fierce a threat! AloneтБатАФhow sore and smarting must PiotrтАЩs poor vanity be, to utter such a threat. She felt an unbearable compassion for him. She imagined she could hear his baffled vanityтБатАФrejectedтБатАФdriven homeтБатАФgoing round and round in his breast, cryingтБатАФwhyтБатАФwhyтБатАФwhy? Other girls, he said, knew his value better. That was his poor darling vanity that spoke; he was besieged inside himselfтБатАФfiring off the failing ammunition of his vanity from behind that pink serious face, those blinking blue eyes, that hard healthy nose, that deeply-breathing chest. Of course there was value in that bewildered body of hisтБатАФof course other girls knew that value. Why not? She knew it herself. Yet suddenly, as she reviewed his deserts, the very thought of his touching her outraged her. She felt sick. She stopped crying. + 

тАЬItтАЩs no use, dear Petya,тАЭ she said in a quavering voice. тАЬIтАЩm not proud of this fear in me. I donтАЩt pretend it. I am what I am.тАЭ + 

But, very deep down in her heart, she was proud of this birthmark of remoteness. It was not a fearтБатАФit was not a fleeing away, but a repelling. Somehow she knew without knowing it, that to be alone was to be judged by a strange calm standardтБатАФto be judged, in fact, by herself onlyтБатАФthe ideal of pride. Loneliness was in itself a sort of license to live strangelyтБатАФto live according to an outlawтАЩs law. + 

There was a long silence during which Tatiana, her tears drying on her cheeks, watched the caterpillar under the jam-pot. She thought it was arguing to itself: тАЬNow I must keep my head and think clearly. I got in here, so there must be a way out. That stands to reason.тАЭ A perfectly good argument. But there was no way out. + 

Piotr, who had turned his face away, looked at her and saw where her attention was. Grunting with irritation, he knocked the jam-pot over, and the caterpillar, congratulating itself on this justification of its logic, rippled away. + 

тАЬCome over to the tree, Tanya, and listen to what I have to say,тАЭ said Piotr, hoping there would be no insect life or other distracting livestock there. But not hoping very firmly, for anything, he knew, could hold TatianaтАЩs attentionтБатАФanything, except a lover. + 

She was very docile. She walked by his side, back toward the tree. But, halfway, she stopped and said: тАЬBut Petya, is it any good talking? You know what happenedтБатАФthat day. It isnтАЩt words that can alter things like that.тАЭ + 

Piotr remembered. The memory stabbed deeply and quickly through his tender body. He could feel still the generous heat of his accepted loveтБатАФaccepted, for she was docile, and had not refused her lips. Why should she refuse? They were betrothed. His memory still rang with her wild scream; his hands tingled still to recall the stiffening of her body as she had fainted. Thunderstruck, almost unbearably hurt, he had looked upтБатАФroundтБатАФdownтБатАФas he released her. Had she seen a tigerтБатАФheard a shot? No, nothing had happened except the natural gesture of a quite ordinary young manтАЩs quite ordinary love.тБатАКтБатАж Words to alter this? He ground his teeth to think that such difficult unsimple things as words should be needed. For he knew no fresh words; he hoped for no inspiration of eloquence. All he had to say was, тАЬBut whyтБатАФwhyтБатАФwhy?тАЭ His only argument was being what he wasтБатАФa healthy decent young man in love with a beautiful healthy girl, whose parents sanctioned their betrothal. What was wrong with that? What was there left for words to explain in that? When he said, тАЬWell then, I shall go away,тАЭ he pictured himself obscurely in two halves; one half walking inexorably away over hill and dale, completely carefree, the other half gloating over the sight of the bereaved TatianaтАЩs remorse, as she lay, cured of her folly, crying, Come back, come back. Petya my darling.тБатАКтБатАж + 

тАЬWell then, Tanya, I shall go away. You will not see me again.тАЭ + 

Tatiana smiled at once. тАЬWill you really, Piotr Gavrilovitch? Will you really be happy again? I shall think of you happy again, finding a new thing every minuteтБатАФwaving your stickтБатАФwalking happily along.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

тАЬHappy? I am happy now,тАЭ said Piotr, sullenly. тАЬIt isnтАЩt a woman that could make me unhappy.тАЭ + 

She looked apologetic again. тАЬOi, PetyaтБатАФI hurt you.тБатАКтБатАж I wish I had never been born.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou didnтАЩt hurt me. How could you hurt me? Certainly we would have been married; there was nothing to prevent it except some whim of yours, Tanya. But why should I care? I am the freer for your whim. This place is too small for a man like me. Perhaps I shall join the Chinese army as an officer. Danger doesnтАЩt frighten me. Almost certainly I shall never come back. There will be nobody ever again to bring you mushrooms.тАЭ + 

тАЬHow frightful for him,тАЭ thought Tatiana, тАЬthat he canтАЩt hurt me, though he is hurt by me. I wish I could seem hurt.тАЭ + 

тАЬOf course I shall be very sorry,тАЭ she mumbled, awkwardly. + 

тАЬSorry! Sorry to miss the mushrooms,тАЭ said Piotr, wildly. тАЬYou and your mushrooms!тАЭ The very mention of mushrooms suddenly filled his eyes with tears. Mushrooms, patterned on a morning field, seemed to spell Tanya to him for a moment. тАЬMushrooms, indeed!тАЭ he croaked. тАЬYou think of nothing but yourself.тАЭ + 

тАЬMyselfтБатАФmyselfтБатАФmyself,тАЭ thought Tatiana. тАЬWhere is myself?тАЭ She sought through herself for some essential bone of personality to lay a finger on. тАЬWhat is it that likes mushrooms? What is it that fears to be alone and yet must be alone? What is it that dies of horror when men come too near? Are my eyes, watching caterpillars and watching PetyaтАЩs red faceтБатАФare my eyes myself? What else? What else?тАЭ She tried even to imagine what her outer self looked like, sitting here on a tree-root one cautious yard away from Piotr. She could see the spreading tree, spangled with green light; she could see the red hills under that clear tense light that comes just before sunset, the gullies filling with long smoke-blue shadows.тБатАКтБатАж She looked along the bent perspective of the gully that stretched below the village to a wide purple and gold valley. The crops, in all colors but all tinged with the same rich yellow late light, and in all shapesтБатАФuneven squares, stripes, oblongs, rhomboidsтБатАФgrew from a bloodred soil, so that the near barley seemed like pale green armies wading in blood. Here and there were intervals of naked redтБатАФacres that had been ploughed for a new sowing. The paths, angling about among the many-angled crops, were deep set, as though stitched firmly into the texture of patched quilted velvet. Villages, of the same dreamlike smoke-blue as the far mountains, were tucked into gullies and tributary gullies, and over each village a thin taut string of smokeтБатАФthe smoke of evening cookingтБатАФwas stretched flat on the windless air. + 

And in the middle of this jewel-like elaboration of shape and colorтБатАФwhere was Tatiana? She could not see herself or put herself into words, but in her mindтАЩs eye a pillar of nothingness rearedтБатАФa white mirror, passively accepting the image of hills and valleys, insects and lovers.тБатАКтБатАж + 

тАЬWell, have you nothing to say to meтБатАФbefore I say goodbye?тАЭ + 

тАЬI wish you happiness, dear Piotr Gavrilovitch.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou really want me to go away and be happy somewhere else and leave you alone?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat else is there to do?тАЭ + 

тАЬDo you realize what it is, you foolish girl, for a woman to live and die alone?тАЭ + 

тАЬI realize very well.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell then.тБатАКтБатАж Ah, Tanya, would you let me kiss your eyesтБатАФjust onceтБатАФbefore I go?тАЭ + 

Her heart froze. тАЬPetyaтБатАФwould it make you go more happily?тАЭ There was a hissing in her ears, like something boiling overтБатАФlouder and louderтБатАФhigher and higher. тАЬAh, but noтБатАФnoтБатАФnoтБатАФno!тАЭ She burst into tears and jumped giddily to her feet. She began running back toward her fatherтАЩs house. She reached the washtubs and plunged her arms in among the wet clothes, pounding, crying, gasping, trembling. A terrified glance back toward the tree showed her that Piotr had gone. A puff of dust at the corner of the temple was all that reminded her eyes of him. If her eyes were her only selfтБатАФhe was gone from her sight now, gone from her self. She felt suddenly safeтБатАФsafe from seeing his poor faceтБатАФsafe from having to pity himтБатАФsafe from invasion. The blank page of herself was safe from inscription now. She flapped a wet garment with wild joy in the air. + 

тАЬOi, what a splashing!тАЭ said the servant, Katya, coming out, carrying two cans of hot water. тАЬYou have been crying again, Tatiana Pavlovna.тАЭ + 

тАЬOnly for a minute,тАЭ said Tatiana. With the strength of excitement she emptied out her washtub into the ditch and wrung out the clothes. She poured the fresh hot water into the tub from a foolish height, saying to herself, тАЬThe awed traveler stood and watched the stupendous cataract from a neighboring height.тАЭ She imagined the awed traveler, about half an inch high, standing on the opposite brim of the washtubтБатАФbut she drowned him at once, by mistake, for the water, violently poured in, splashed violently over the brim. + 

тАЬYou are wasting half the hot water, you foolish girl!тАЭ shouted Katya. тАЬI have been nearly an hour heating that water and now you throw it on the mud. CanтАЩt you be careful?тАЭ + 

тАЬIf I like,тАЭ said Tatiana. She began swirling the water round and round in the tub, saying below her breath, тАЬThe horrors of the maelstrom,тАЭ and pretending that a little ship, the size of a peanut shell, full of despairing pinhead sailors, was whirling round and round, nearer and nearer to the fatal dark siren dint in the middle of the whirl. + 

тАЬTck tck!тАЭ said Katya, and, pushing Tatiana aside, she plunged an armful of soapy linen into the water, instantly calming the cyclone. тАЬNow please, Tatiana Pavlovna, donтАЩt waste time, but help me with the rinsing. It will be dark in half an hour.тАЭ + 

Tatiana began thoughtfully steeping the linen in the water, pulling it, plunging it slowly, letting the white spines of linen hems come to the surface here and there like slow porpoises. + 

тАЬWhere is Piotr Gavrilovitch?тАЭ asked Katya. + 

тАЬHe is gone.тАЭ + 

тАЬGone for good?тАЭ + 

тАЬGoing for good.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, Tatiana Pavlovna, I hope you are properly proud of yourselfтБатАФemptying this village completely of its young men. Piotr Isaev was the last. Now they are all gone. Seven Russian boys came over in our party from Vladivostok when we all settled here in Mi-san, and now they are all gone, thanks to you. In my young days a pretty girl had all the young men from miles around coming round her like wasps round honey; she didnтАЩt drive them away as though she were a bad smell.тАЭ + 

тАЬSome young woman somewhereтАЩs the better for each of these goings-away of young men,тАЭ said Tatiana in a high voice. тАЬSeven pots of honey somewhere have one bad smell in Mi-san to thank for their seven wasps.тАЭ + 

She had no defense against KatyaтАЩs talk. Katya could not help vomiting spiteful talk, thought Tatiana. One had to forgive other people with weak stomachs, even if they disgusted oneтБатАФso why not KatyaтАЩs surfeit and indigestion of crude words? + 

тАЬItтАЩs no good pretending you donтАЩt care,тАЭ went on Katya. тАЬNo young girl wants to be an old maid. ThatтАЩs what youтАЩll be, Tatiana PavlovnaтБатАФa finicky old maid, whining over a fat cat. Look at you nowтБатАФleft aloneтБатАФnot another young man of your own race within a hundred miles. What do you want to do about itтБатАФmarry a smelly Korean or a Japanese shopkeeper who doesnтАЩt come up to your elbow and blows wind through his teeth? Do you like the idea? WhatтАЩs the matter with you that all the young men run away at the last minute? ItтАЩs a disgrace to this house, I assure you. IтАЩve known you almost as long as your mother has, and I can tell you it keeps me awake of nights. The disgrace of it. ItтАЩs not natural. Young men didnтАЩt run away from me, I can tell you, when I was a pretty girl. Of course, after IтАЩd borne seven children and buried five and lost my figure, that was a different matter. Men always run away from a red nose and three hundred pounds of fleshтБатАФitтАЩs their nature. But from a pretty girlтБатАФthatтАЩs not nature, Tatiana Pavlovna, thereтАЩs something funny about that.тАЭ + 

Tatiana did not speak. She tried to make a loud secret story inside her mind to drown KatyaтАЩs voice. She pretended, as she wrung out the linen, that she was a hero, after a shipwreck, saving the drowning, applying artificial respiration. She did not know what artificial respiration was, but amused herself a little by pretending it was rather like this wringing process. Here, she thought, picking up one of her fatherтАЩs thick unbleached nightgownsтБатАФhere was a fat old rich Jew all sodden and limp, and here she folded him up and twisted him round, wringing, jerking, laughing as she thought of his dignity all mixed up and intertwisted, his nose and his toes, his eyeglasses and his ankles, all in a little buckled salutary wet lump, being saved by herтБатАФand then, shake, flap there he was, the old moneygrubber, flat, bloodless, and pale, but almost his own shape again, the light evening wind blowing him out as she ran him up on the clothesline. + 

тАЬWhat do you think women are for?тАЭ went on Katya, gasping and wheezing as she pounded and wrung. тАЬWhat do you think men want of women? Pretty talkтБатАФpoetryтБатАФsitting side by side and looking at stars? Why, my girl, I can tell you men wouldnтАЩt mind if women were dumb and imbecile, as long as the women could give them the one thing they want. IтАЩll tell you what marriage is, Tatiana PavlovnaтБатАФitтАЩs just getting out of bed, cooking three meals, and getting back into bed again. Women canтАЩt run away from thatтБатАФunless theyтАЩre nuns. ThereтАЩs nothing makes a man so angry as a woman who plays the coward in bedтБатАФnothing else that a woman can do can hurt his feelings at all, except, perhaps, bad cooking. It makes a man mad for a woman not to know her duty; itтАЩs like stabbing himтБатАФit turns his love to bile. Love, indeed!тБатАКтБатАж Why thatтАЩs what love isтБатАФjust the hope of going to bed together. But running away from fate is what youтАЩre doing, Tatiana Pavlovna, and IтАЩm telling you for your good.тАЭ + 

Tatiana had been pounding one pillowcase ever since she saved the scorned Jew. It was an old pillowcase and now she suddenly pounded a hole in it. + 

тАЬWhy, you ought to have been proud to be wanted by all those fine young men,тАЭ persisted Katya, in a grinding voice. тАЬA thin, white little thing like youтБатАФand all the good red-blooded Russian wenches that have to shrivel up as virgins, these days, or sleep with yellow men. God knows Piotr Isaev was no catch for your fatherтАЩs daughter, and he a common gardenerтАЩs son; still, he was a manтБатАФthe last man in Mi-sanтБатАФand now heтАЩs turned his back on you. You ought to be ashamed, breaking your fatherтАЩs and motherтАЩs hearts by your whimsies.тАЭ + 

тАЬReal people like to be nagged at,тАЭ thought Tatiana. тАЬNagged at by love and other thingsтБатАФasked and asked to give something. Only hills and rivers and flowers and animals are allowed to be freeтБатАФnot to ask for anything. The more you ask of people the more sure they feel that they are people. ItтАЩs their meтБатАФto be nagged at. I donтАЩt ask for anything, so IтАЩm not allowed to be alive. IтАЩll be kind to themтБатАФIтАЩll cry for themтБатАФIтАЩll laugh for themтБатАФIтАЩll pretend IтАЩm themтБатАФbut people donтАЩt want that; they want to claw my me and they want me to claw theirs. Not to nag is to insult them.тАЭ + 

She saw little circles in outline, flying about on blankness, each circle trying to pursue, attack, overlap and obliterate another. Whenever one circle succeeded in overlapping another, the area of their intersection was suffused with black; the words тАЬwicked blackтАЭ formed in her mind. No circle seemed content to let its outline rest coolly on anotherтАЩsтБатАФto admit anotherтАЩs integrity. Black trespass was the inspiration of all. + 

тАЬItтАЩs something not natural in you; itтАЩs like a devil in you,тАЭ said Katya. тАЬA devil sticking a knife into menтАЩs stomachs. ItтАЩs like killing somethingтБатАФto scream and faint and kick up a fuss when a man offers to give youтБатАФall he has to give, poor beast. A man feels killed. ItтАЩs as if youтАЩd killed those seven lovers of yours, Tatiana Pavlovna.тАЭ + 

тАЬYet theyтАЩre not dead. TheyтАЩre offering it to someone else by now,тАЭ thought Tatiana. тАЬAnd IтАЩm alive, too.тАЭ Then that thought broke. тАЬBut am I? Am I? Is this a lifeтБатАФthis seeingтБатАФthis thinking for caterpillars and men? If in the morning I was hanging from a branch of that tree there, would there be one life less in the worldтБатАФor only a pair of eyes shut for good? Where is TanyaтБатАФwashing clothesтБатАФhanging from a tree? Tanya the nothingтБатАФwho by her nothingness killed seven loves and broke the hearts of her father and mother.тБатАКтБатАжтАЭ + 

And then, thinking of lovers, she saw the circles trespassing more and more within one anotherтАЩs outlines till some wholly covered others, each couple becoming one black circle. Her brain began to freeze. A high throbbing note began to sound in her ears. All the hills began rolling slowly on an upward slant behind the darkening window of her eyes. + 

тАЬKatya! Katya!тАЭ + 

тАЬOh, little fool! Oh, my darling! KatyaтАЩs coming!тАЭ cried the old woman, running towards her. + 