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Katusha stopped, threw back her head, and catching hold of itwith both hands sobbed aloud. "Gone!" she screamed.

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"He is sitting in a velvet arm-chair and joking and drinking, ina brightly lit carriage, and I, out here in the mud, in thedarkness, in the wind and the rain, am standing and weeping," shethought to herself; and sat down on the ground, sobbing so loudthat the little girl got frightened, and put her arms round her,wet as she was.


"Come home, dear," she said. wig emporium

"When a train passes,then under a carriage, and there will be anend," Katusha was thinking, without heeding the girl.

And she made up her mind to do it, when, as it always happens,when a moment of quiet follows great excitement, he, thechild,his child,made himself known within her. Suddenly allthat a moment before had been tormenting her, so that it hadseemed impossible to live, all her bitterness towards him, andthe wish to revenge herself, even by dying, passed away; she grewquieter, got up, put the shawl on her head, and went home.

Wet, muddy, and quite exhausted, she returned, and from that daythe change which brought her where she now was began to operatein her soul. Beginning from that dreadful night, she ceasedbelieving in God and in goodness. She had herself believed inGod, and believed that other people also believed in Him; butafter that night she became convinced that no one believed, andthat all that was said about God and His laws was deception anduntruth. He whom she loved, and who had loved her,yes, she knewthat,had thrown her away; had abused her love. Yet he was thebest of all the people she knew. All the rest were still worse.All that afterwards happened to her strengthened her in thisbelief at every step. His aunts, the pious old ladies, turned herout when she could no longer serve them as she used to. And ofall those she met, the women used her as a means of gettingmoney, the men, from the old police officer down to the wardersof the prison, looked at her as on an object for pleasure. And noone in the world cared for aught but pleasure. In this belief theold author with whom she had come together in the second year ofher life of independence had strengthened her. He had told heroutright that it was this that constituted the happiness of life,and he called it poetical and aesthetic.

Everybody lived for himself only, for his pleasure, and all thetalk concerning God and righteousness was deception. And ifsometimes doubts arose in her mind and she wondered whyeverything was so ill-arranged in the world that all hurt eachother, and made each other suffer, she thought it best not todwell on it, and if she felt melancholy she could smoke, or,better still, drink, and it would pass. e-wigs sale

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