As they drew near the city gates they went more slowly, and began to pass people and houses. Sofya Lvovna subsided, nestled up to her husband, and gave herself up to her thoughts. Little Volodya sat opposite. By now her light-hearted and cheerful thoughts were mingled with gloomy ones. She thought that the man sitting opposite knew that she loved him, and no doubt he believed the gossip that she married the Colonel _par dépit_. She had never told him of her love; she had not wanted him to know, and had done her best to hide her feeling, but from her face she knew that he understood her perfectly --and her pride suffered. But what was most humiliating in her position was that, since her wedding, Volodya had suddenly begun to pay her attention, which he had never done before, spending hours with her, sitting silent or chattering about trifles; and even now in the sledge, though he did not talk to her, he touched her foot with his and pressed her hand a little. Evidently that was all he wanted, that she should be married; and it was evident that he despised her and that she only excited in him an interest of a special kind as though she were an immoral and disreputable woman. And when the feeling of triumph and love for her husband were mingled in her soul with humiliation and wounded pride, she was overcome by a spirit of defiance, and longed to sit on the box, to shout and whistle to the horses. Just as they passed the nunnery the huge hundred-ton bell rang out. Rita crossed herself. "Our Olga is in that nunnery," said Sofya Lvovna, and she, too, crossed herself and shuddered. "Why did she go into the nunnery?" said the Colonel. "_Par dépit_," Rita answered crossly, with obvious allusion to Sofya's marrying Yagitch. "_Par dépit_ is all the fashion nowadays. Defiance of all the world. She was always laughing, a desperate flirt, fond of nothing but balls and young men, and all of a sudden off she went--to surprise every one!" "That's not true," said Volodya, turning down the collar of his fur coat and showing his handsome face. "It wasn't a case of _par dépit_; it was simply horrible, if you like. Her brother Dmitri was sent to penal servitude, and they don't know where he is now. And her mother died of grief." He turned up his collar again. "Olga did well," he added in a muffled voice. "Living as an adopted child, and with such a paragon as Sofya Lvovna,--one must take that into consideration too!" Sofya Lvovna heard a tone of contempt in his voice, and longed to say something rude to him, but she said nothing. The spirit of defiance came over her again; she stood up again and shouted in a tearful voice: "I want to go to the early service! Driver, back! I want to see Olga."