"If you only knew how sad at heart I am," he murmured, striving to
conquer his emotion.
"My dear fellow, I know all about it--everything," said Sanine kindly.
"No! You can't know all!" said Novikoff, as he sat down beside the
other. He thought that no one could possibly feel such sorrow as his.
"Yes, yes, I do," replied Sanine, "I swear that I do; and if you'll
promise not to attack me with your old boot, I will prove what I say.
Promise?"
"Yes, yes! Forgive me, Volodja!" said Novikoff, calling Sanine by his
first name which he had never done before. This touched Sanine, and he
felt the more anxious to help his friend.
"Well, then, listen," he began, as he placed his hand in confidential
fashion on the other's knee. "Let us be quite frank. You are going
away, because Lida refused you, and because, at Sarudine's the other
day, you had an idea that it was she who came to see him in private."
Novikoff bent forward, too distressed to speak. It was as if Sanine had
re-opened an agonizing wound. The latter, noticing Novikoff's
agitation, thought Inwardly, "You good-natured old fool!"
Then he continued: "As to the relations between Lida and Sarudine, I can affirm nothing
positively, for I know nothing, but I don't believe that...." He did
not finish the sentence when he saw how dark the other's face became.
"Their intimacy," he went on, "is of such recent date that nothing
serious can have happened, especially if one considers Lida's
character. You, of course, know what she is."
There rose up before Novikoff the image of Lida, as he had once known
and loved her; of Lida, the proud, high-spirited girl, lustrous-eyed,
and crowned with serene, consummate beauty as with a radiant aureole.
He shut his eyes, and put faith in Sanine's words.
"Well, and if they really did flirt a bit, that's over and ended now.
After all, what is it to you if a girl like Lida, young and fancy-free,
has had a little amusement of this sort? Without any great effort of
memory I expect you could recall at least a dozen such flirtations of a
far more dangerous kind, too."
Novikoff glanced trustfully at Sanine, afraid to speak, lest the faint
spark of hope within him should be extinguished. At last he stammered
out: "You know, if I ..."; but he got no further. Words failed him, and
tears choked his utterance.