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From
the past there came the memory of earlier good-natured women, gay in their love, grateful to him for their happiness, short
though it might be; and of others - like his wife-
who loved without sincerity, and
talked overmuch and affectedly, hysterically, as though they were protesting that it was not love, nor passion, but something
more important; and of the few beautiful
cold women, into whose eyes there would flash suddenly a fierce expression,
a stubborn deisre to take, to
snatch from life more than it can give, they
were no longer in their first youth, they were capricioius, unstable, domineering, imprudent, and when Gomov became cold toward
them then their beauty roused him to hatred, and the lace on their lingerie reminded him of the scales of fish.
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