"Our plans would be disarranged, all our packing is done," I objected feebly, beginning to waver. "Perhaps she had better go to-day, at once, to pay her respects to the prince!" observed my husband from his end of the room, with some irritation, and in a dictatorial tone I had never heard from him before. "Why, he is getting jealous; I see it for the first time!" exclaimed our cousin, ironically. "It is not for the prince alone, Sergius Mikaïlovitch, but for all of us, that I want her. That is why Countess R. is so urgent." "It depends upon herself," returned my husband, coldly, as he left the room. I had seen that he was much more agitated than usual; this troubled me, and I would not give a decided answer to my cousin. As soon as she was gone, I went to look for my husband. He was thoughtfully walking up and down his chamber, and neither saw nor heard me, as I stole softly in on tiptoe. "He is picturing to himself his dear Nikolski," thought I, watching him, "he is thinking about his morning coffee in that light drawing-room, his fields, his peasants, his evenings at home, and his secret little night suppers! Yes," I decided, in my own mind, "I would give all the balls in the world, and the flatteries of every prince in the universe, to have again his bright joyousness and his loving caresses!" I was about telling him that I was not going to the reception, that I no longer cared to go, when he suddenly glanced behind him. At the sight of me, his brow darkened, and the dreamy gentleness of his countenance changed entirely. The well-known look came to his face, the look of penetrating wisdom and patronizing calmness. He would not let me see in him simple human nature: he must remain for me the demi-god upon his pedestal! "What is it, my love?" he enquired, turning towards me with quiet carelessness. I did not answer. I resented his hiding himself from me, his not allowing me to see him as I best loved him. "So you wish to go to this reception, on Saturday?" he continued. "I did wish to go," I replied, "but it did not suit you. And then, too, the packing is done," I added. Never had he looked at me so coldly, never spoken so coldly. "I shall not leave before Tuesday, and I will order the packing to be undone," he said; "we will not go until you choose. Do me the favor to go to this entertainment. I shall not leave the city." As was his habit when excited, he went on walking about the room with quick, irregular steps, and did not look at me. "Most decidedly, I do not understand you," I said, putting myself in his way, and following him with my eyes. "Why do you speak to me in such a singular manner? I am quite ready to sacrifice this pleasure to you, and you, with sarcasm you have never before shown, you require that I shall go!" "Come! come! You _sacrifice_ yourself" (he laid strong emphasis on the word), "and I, I _sacrifice_ myself also! Combat of generosity! There, I hope, is what may be called 'family happiness'!"