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[笑頻] all would remain exactly

all would remain exactly

"Well, let's go into other lodgings," remarked Motrja through her tears, taking his words literally.

"It's not that, dear.... I did not mean that exactly.... For even if we were to live in a garret we should still be living in a hole, and
the same I It's not only the lodgings ... our whole life is like a hole...."

Matrona began to think over his words, and finally remarked, "God grant that we may improve ... that we may get used to each other."

"Yes, that things may improve ... you have often said that already. It doesn't look much like it, Motrja.... The scandals we create become more and more frequent."

Motrja could not deny this. The intervals between her beatings grew ever shorter and shorter, and Grischka would frequently begin the trouble quite early on Saturday morning. He would commence by saying—

"This evening, as soon as I have finished work, I am off to the vodka-shop across the way, and I mean to have such a bout!"

Motrja blinked her eyes, and was silent "Have you nothing to say about it? Well, well! It's better to be silent.... It's better for you!" he added threateningly. As the evening hour approached, he grew more and more excited. He would speak to her over and over again of his intention to get drunk. He knew only too well how painful it was to her to hear such words, and he noticed how she went about in obstinate silence, with a cold glance in her grey eyes, attending to her duties in the cellar; and this made him feel all the more furious.

In the evening Senka Tschischik, the herald of misfortune to the inhabitants of the court, was able to report another battle having been fought at the Orloffs'.

When Grischka had beaten his wife black and blue, he disappeared sometimes for the whole night, not even coming back to the house for Sunday. Finally he would return, dirty, and with bloodshot eyes, to his home. Matrona would receive him in silence, wearing a severe expression, but full of secret pity. She knew that under these circumstances he would like nothing better than a drop of spirits, and already had a bottle of vodka prepared for him  the scene of a violent and murderous attack..

"Come, pour me out a glass!" he cried in a hoarse voice, and after swallowing two, he would sit down to work.

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