the river, beneath the white mist, the unceasing labour went on,
and sounds as of something sobbing, cracking, dropping, being
shattered to pieces mixed with the tinkling of the thin bits of
ice as they broke against each other like glass.
There he stood, looking at Katusha's serious, suffering face,
which betrayed the inner struggle of her soul, and he felt pity
for her; but, strange though it may seem, this pity only
confirmed him in his evil intention.