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At that moment, when the revelation of everything was hanging

over him, there was nothing he expected so much as that she would

answer mockingly as before that his suspicions were absurd and

utterly groundless. So terrible to him was what he knew that now

he was ready to believe anything. But the expression of her face,

scared and gloomy, did not now promise even deception.

"Possibly I was mistaken," said he. "If so, I beg your pardon."

"No, you were not mistaken," she said deliberately, looking

desperately into his cold face. "You were not mistaken. I was,

and I could not help being in despair. I hear you, but I am

thinking of him. I love him, I am his mistress; I can't bear you;

I'm afraid of you, and I hate you.... You can do what you like to

me."