Sanine

Sideways, on Sarudine's bed, sat Lida, in despair, convulsively

twisting her handkerchief. As he came in he was struck by her altered

appearance. Of the proud, high-spirited girl there was not a trace. He

now saw before him a dejected woman, broken by grief, with sunken

cheeks and lifeless eyes. These dark eyes instantly met his, and then

as swiftly shunned his gaze. Instinctively he knew that Lida feared

him, and a feeling of intense irritation suddenly arose within him.

Closing the door with a bang, he walked straight up to her.

"You really are a most extraordinary person," he began, with difficulty

checking his fierce wish to strike her. "Here am I, with a room full of

people; your brother's there, too! Couldn't you have chosen some other

time to come? Upon my word, it is too provoking!"

From the dark eyes there shot such a strange flash that Sarudine

quailed. His tone changed. He smiled, showing his white teeth, and

taking Lida's hand, sat down beside her on the bed.

"Well, well, it doesn't matter. I was only anxious on your account. I

am ever so glad that you've come. I was longing to see you."

Sarudine raised her hot, perfumed little hand to his lips, and kissed

it just above the glove.

"Is that the truth?" asked Lida. The curious tone of her voice

surprised him. Again she looked up at him, and her eyes said plainly,

"Is it true that you love me? You see how wretched I am, now. Not like

I was once. I am afraid of you, and I feel all the humiliation of my

present state, but I have no one except you that can help me."

"How can you doubt it?" replied Sarudine. The words sounded insincere,

almost cold.

Again he took her hand and kissed it. He was entangled in a strange

coil of sensations and of thoughts. Only two days ago on this very

pillow had lain the dark tresses of Lida's dishevelled hair as he held

her in his arms and their lips had met in a frenzy of passion

uncontrolled. In that moment of desire the whole world and all his

countless sensuous schemes of enjoyment with other women seemed

realized and attained; the desire in deliberate and brutal fashion

deeply to wrong this nature placed by passion within his power. And

now, all at once, his feeling for her was one of loathing. He would

have liked to thrust her from him; he wished never to see her or hear

her again. So overpowering was this desire, that to sit beside her

became positive torture. At the same time a vague dread of her deprived

him of will-power and forced him to remain. He was perfectly aware that

there was nothing whatever to bind him to her, and that it was with her

own consent that he had possessed her, without any promise on his part.

Each had given just as each had taken. Nevertheless he felt as if

caught in some sticky substance from which he could not free himself.

He foresaw that Lida would make some claim upon him, and that he must

either consent, or else commit a base, vile act. He appeared to be as

utterly powerless as if the bones had been removed from his legs and

arms, and as if, instead of a tongue in his mouth, there were a moist

rag. He wanted to shout at her, and let her know once for all that she

had no right to ask anything of him, but his heart was benumbed by

craven fear, and to his lips there rose a senseless phrase which he

knew to be absolutely unfitting.