XX.
"Yes, it was even so before it happened.
"We lived in a kind of truce, when there seemed to be no reason for breaking it. Suddenly the conversation touches upon a certain dog, of which I say that it received a medal at the show. She says that it was not a medal, but honourable mention. A discussion ensues. We begin to jump from one subject to another and to hurl accusations at each other: 'Of course, it is always that way.'—'You said—'—'No, I did not say.'—'So I am lying?' You feel that before you know it that terrible quarrel will be on, when you will kill yourself or her. You know that it will begin directly, and you are afraid of it as of fire, and you would like to restrain yourself, but fury takes possession of your whole being. And she, being in the same, but even worse condition, purposely misinterprets every word of mine, and every word of hers is saturated with poison; she stings me in whatever she knows is the most painful spot. The farther it goes the worse it gets. I cry out, 'Shut up!' or something of the kind.
"She jumps out of the room and runs into the nursery. I try to keep her back, in order to finish my sentence to her, and I seize her by the arm. She pretends that I have hurt her, and cries: 'Children, your father is striking me!' I cry out, 'Don't lie!'—'It is not the first time!' she cries, or something of the kind. The children rush to her. She calms them down. I say, 'Don't pretend!' She says: 'For you everything is pretence. You will kill a person, and then you will say that the person
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