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longer her ideal. She began to think of some other tenderness; at least,
that is what I thought. She looked about her as if expecting some event
or some being. I noticed it, and I could not help being anxious.
"Always, now, it happened that, in talking with me through a third party
(that is, in talking with others, but with the intention that I should
hear), she boldly expressed,--not thinking that an hour before she had
said the opposite,--half joking, half seriously, this idea that maternal
anxieties are a delusion; that it is not worth while to sacrifice one's
life to children. When one is young, it is necessary to enjoy life. So
she occupied herself less with the children, not with the same intensity
as formerly, and paid more and more attention to herself, to her
face,--although she concealed it,--to her pleasures, and even to her
perfection from the worldly point of view. She began to devote herself
passionately to the piano, which had formerly stood forgotten in the
corner. There, at the piano, began the adventure.
"The MAN appeared."
Posdnicheff seemed embarrassed, and twice again there escaped him that
nasal sound of which I spoke above. I thought that it gave him pain to
refer to the MAN, and to remember him. He made an effort, as if to
break down the obstacle that embarrassed him, and continued with
determination.
"
He was a bad man in my eyes, and not because he has played such an
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