“Quiet!”
Katerina Lvovna lay down silently and went on lying like that until morning. She wanted to say to herself: “I don’t love him” and felt that she loved him still more ardently. And now before her eyes she keeps picturing again and again how his palm trembled under that woman’s head, how his other arm embraced her hot shoulders.
The poor woman wept and unwillingly called upon the same palm to be under her head that minute and his other arm to embrace her hysterically trembling shoulders.
“Well, give me back my kerchief anyhow,” the soldier’s wife Fiona woke her up in the morning.
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