He did not even find her pretty any more. He knew now that she was terribly stupid. But of course she was not to blame for that, she was not to blame because he had been false to his friend; and he forced himself to be as sweet and tender to her as he had always been. He did whatever she wanted. She had only to express a wish for him to fulfil it if it was in his power.
He tried to pity her (он пытался жалеть ее), he tried to be tolerant (он пытался относиться /к ней/ терпеливо: «быть терпимым»); he told himself that from her own petty standpoint she was a good wife (он говорил себе, что с ее собственной ограниченной точки зрения она была хорошей женой;
pity ['pItI], tolerant ['tOl(q)rqnt], methodical [mI'TOdIk(q)l], loathe [lquD]
He tried to pity her, he tried to be tolerant; he told himself that from her own petty standpoint she was a good wife, methodical, saving and in her manner, dress and appearance a credit to a respectable young man. All that was true; but it was on her account that Riri had died, and he loathed her. She bored him to distraction.
Though he said nothing, though he was kind, amiable and indulgent (хотя он ничего не говорил, хотя он был добр, дружелюбен и потакал /ей/;
indulgent [In'dAldZ(q)nt], celebrate ['selIbreIt], engagement [In'geIdZmqnt]
Though he said nothing, though he was kind, amiable and indulgent, he could often have killed her. When he did, however, it was almost without meaning to. It was ten months after Riri’s death, and Riri’s parents, Monsieur and Madame Renard, gave a party to celebrate the engagement of their daughter. Jean had seen little of them since Riri’s death and he did not want to go.