Matrona was silent? she was always upset when her husband spoke in that tone; often she begged him not to talk like that, for it was like speaking against God, who knew best how men's lives should be arranged. Sometimes, when not too depressed, she would interject a remark full of common-sense--"You shouldn't drink vodka, then you would live more happily, and not frighten yourself with such thoughts. Others live and don't complain; they save money, open a shop, and in time become their own masters." "Stop talking nonsense, you stupid woman!" Grischka would exclaim angrily. "Just consider a moment how can I possibly live without drink, when that is my only pleasure? You talk about others ... how many do you know pray, who have been fortunate enough to make themselves independent? Was I not before my marriage quite a different sort of fellow? I will just tell you the truth; it is you who give me so much trouble, and who embitter my life ... you ugly frog!..." Matrona felt herself wronged when she heard these words. He was certainly right in saying that he was jollier and more amiable when he was drunk. The "others" however of whom she spoke, were a product of her imagination. And that before his marriage he was more cheerful, more entertaining, more good-natured--that also was true.... Now however he had really grown like a wild beast.... "Am I indeed then such a burden to him?" thought Matrona to herself. Her heart ached at this painful thought--she felt pity for him and for herself. She went up to him looked smilingly into his eyes, and pressed her head tenderly against his breast. "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.