III.
As soon as Mascha became pregnant, I felt an irresistible impulse to increase our mutual torments! To increase them!! To increase them!!! For our love did not appear to me sufficiently great, nor yet sufficiently worthy, nor yet sufficiently holy, for us to crystallize ourselves in a new living being.
This idea racked me continually. In vain I sought to convince myself that our love was a million times greater than the love of ordinary mortals, that it was unique!... Again and again my conscience said to me: “How can you use for =yourself= the measuring rule of ordinary men, even if they are the leaders of men? You are the =conscious= masochist! Your =ideals= must be suited to this fact! Is it anything so much out of the common to have an illegitimate child? You must increase your sorrows! Increase them!!”
(He proceeds to describe how in every possible way he tormented his beloved.)
At length, in consequence of my continued vexation, Mascha became as nervous as =I= was myself.... Now she really began to take everything perversely.
“Leave me in peace! It is your fault! You are driving me quite out of my mind!!”
On account of the most trifling matters we became furious with rage, mutually making one another more wretched and more bitter. Ten, twenty times a day, we stood facing one another, leaning forwards, shaking with wrath, our mouths gaping with anger, our eyes sparkling, our fingers widely separated, like tigers ready to spring; many times she struck me in the face or spat at me!
“Oh, you wretch! How I hate you!!! I should like--I should like----!”
Then we said to one another calmly and quietly that we did not suit one another; that we had been deceived; that everything was now at an end; we begged one another for forgiveness, and separated.
Soon came the pangs of conscience, the question, “Who is to blame?” Now the pains began: “What have I done? It is impossible that it =can= be so; I will beg her forgiveness upon my knees. She must be =mine= again--must be, must be!”
“Oh, love, love! How interminable is your pain!”
Now I began with nervous haste to say to myself, “Where will she be? With Katja? Up! Go to her and ask her!”
“Has Mascha been here?”
“Yes--she has just gone away!”
“Did she not say where she was going?”
“No!... Have you quarrelled once more?”
“H’m!... A little, but it was my fault!... I must find her!... Good-bye!”
At the house of A, B, C, and D she was not to be found. Is it possible that in her pain----? No, no! Not =that=! Not =that=!!
This pulsed in my temples, whilst I ran up and down the stairs!
Six o’clock! now she will go out walking on the Newsky-Prospekt!!...
At last I reach the Newsky-Prospekt! I rush up and down looking for her! Is that she? No! Or there? It is not she! That must be she? No--yes--no--yes, yes!... It is she.... Now walk a little more slowly.... Now she sees me.... She turns as if to pass by on the other side.... She changes her mind and stays on this side....
“Have you been out walking long?”...
Mascha lies in my arms. We cry and laugh--cry and laugh.... Never, never, never again!!... Forgive, forgive!!... We embrace one another, press one another, kiss one another, as if we could be absorbed into one another.... We abuse one another, pull one another’s hair, and playfully box one another’s ears.... Then we rub our cheeks together, and give one another the maddest pet names....
Oh, paradise of love! Why did I quarrel with my fate which imposed upon me such unheard-of torments?... Nothing else could have brought me such blessedness as this!!
Oh, fate! More, more, still more martyrdom!... In this way let my love grow!