"And so my fate is decided," said my sister, as we arrived home.
"After what has happened I cannot go back _there_. Heavens, how
good that is! My heart feels lighter."

She went to bed at once. Tears were glittering on her eyelashes,
but her expression was happy; she fell into a sound sweet sleep,
and one could see that her heart was lighter and that she was
resting. It was a long, long time since she had slept like that.

And so we began our life together. She was always singing and saying
that her life was very happy, and the books I brought her from the
public library I took back unread, as now she could not read; she
wanted to do nothing but dream and talk of the future, mending my
linen, or helping Karpovna near the stove; she was always singing,
or talking of her Vladimir, of his cleverness, of his charming
manners, of his kindness, of his extraordinary learning, and I
assented to all she said, though by now I disliked her doctor. She
wanted to work, to lead an independent life on her own account, and
she used to say that she would become a school-teacher or a doctor'
s assistant as soon as her health would permit her, and would herself
do the scrubbing and the washing. Already she was passionately
devoted to her child; he was not yet born, but she knew already the
colour of his eyes, what his hands would be like, and how he would
laugh. She was fond of talking about education, and as her Vladimir
was the best man in the world, all her discussion of education could
be summed up in the question how to make the boy as fascinating as
his father. There was no end to her talk, and everything she said
made her intensely joyful. Sometimes I was delighted, too, though
I could not have said why.