Don't I know him, the falsity in which he's utterly steeped?... Could one, with any feeling, live as he is living with me? He understands nothing, and feels nothing.
Could a man of any feeling live in the same house with his unfaithful wife? Could he talk to her, call her 'my dear'?" And again she could not help mimicking him: "'Anna, _ma chere_; Anna, dear'!" "He's not a man, not a human being--he's a doll! No one knows him; but I know him.
Oh, if I'd been in his place, I'd long ago have killed, have torn to pieces a wife like me.
I wouldn't have said, 'Anna, ma chere'! He's not a man, he's an official machine.
He doesn't understand that I'm your wife, that he's outside, that he's superfluous....

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