exist； as one is quiet and polite to a
servant。
Nevertheless she was great with his child； it was his turn to
submit。 She sat opposite him； sewing； her foreign face
inscrutable and indifferent。 He felt he wanted to break her into
acknowledgment of him； into awareness of him。 It was
insufferable that she had so obliterated him。 He would smash her
into regarding him。 He had a raging agony of desire to do
so。
But something bigger in him withheld him； kept him
motionless。 So he went out of the house for relief。 Or he turned
to the little girl for her sympathy and her love； he appealed
with all his power to the small Anna。 So soon they were like
lovers； father and child。
For he was afraid of his wife。 As she sat there with bent
head； silent； working or reading； but so unutterably silent that
his heart seemed under the millstone of it； she became herself
like the upper millstone lying on him； crushing him； as
sometimes a heavy sky lies on the earth。
Yet he knew he could not tear her away from the heavy
obscurity into which she was merged。 He must not try to tear her
into recognition of himself； and agreement with himself。 It were
disastrous； impious。 So； let him rage as he might； he must
withhold himself。 But his wrists trembled and seemed mad； seemed
as if they would burst。
When； in November； the leaves came beating against the window
shutters； with a lashing sound； he started； and his eyes
flickered with flame。 The dog looked up at him； he sunk his head
to the fire。 But his wife was startled。 He was aware of her
listening。
〃They blow up with a rattle；〃 he said。