“In order that you may understand me, I must tell you how this happened. We were living along, and all seemed well. Suddenly we began to talk of the children’s education. I do not remember what words either of us uttered, but a discussion began, reproaches, leaps from one subject to another. ‘Yes, I know it. It has been so for a long time.’ . . . ‘You said that.’ . . . ‘No, I did not say that.’ . . . ‘Then I lie?’ etc.

“And I felt that the frightful¹ crisis was approaching when I should desire to kill her or else myself. I knew that it was approaching; I was afraid of it as of fire; I wanted to restrain myself. But rage took possession of my whole being. My wife found herself in the same condition, perhaps worse. She knew that she intentionally² distorted each of my words, and each of her words was saturated³ with venom⁴. All that was dear to me she disparaged⁵ and profaned⁶. The farther the quarrel went, the more furious it became. I cried, ‘Be silent,’ or something like that.

She bounded out of the room and ran toward the children. I tried to hold her back to finish my insults. I grasped her by the arm, and hurt her. She cried: ‘Children, your father is beating me.’ I cried: ‘Don’t lie.’ She continued to utter falsehoods for the simple purpose of irritating me further. ‘Ah, it is not the first time,’ or something of that sort. The children rushed toward her and tried to quiet her. I said: ‘Don’t sham⁷.’ She said: ‘You look upon everything as a sham. You would kill a person and say he was shamming⁸. Now I understand you. That is what you want to do.’ ‘Oh, if you were only dead!’ I cried.

“I remember how that terrible phrase frightened me. Never had I thought that I could utter words so

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