For five years I wished them well.

Do you think it was easy for me?
I suffered, Ivan Andreievitch, the tortures of hell.

I was jealous, God forgive me! How jealous! Sometimes alone in my room I would cry all night--not a fine thing to do.

But then how should I act?
She gave him what she could never give to me.

She loved him with passion--for me she cared as good women care for the poor.