Sanine

As she smiled, her likeness to Sanine became more remarkable, and, in

her sweet, girlish voice she said calmly: "Here I am. Why are you hurrying away? Victor Sergejevitsch, do put

down your cap!"

Sanine was silent, and looked at his sister in amazement. "Whatever

does she mean?" he thought to himself.

As soon as she appeared, a mysterious influence, at once irresistible

and tender, seemed to make itself felt. Like a lion-tamer in a cage

filled with wild beasts, Lida stood there, and the men at once became

gentle and submissive.

"Well, do you know, Lidia Petrovna ..." stammered Sarudine.

At the sound of his voice, Lida's face assumed a plaintive, helpless

expression, and as she glanced swiftly at him there was great grief at

her heart not unmixed with tenderness and hope. Yet in a moment such

feelings were effaced by a fierce desire to show Sarudine how much he

had lost in losing her; to let him see that she was still beautiful, in

spite of all the sorrow and shame that he had caused her to endure.

"I don't want to know anything," she replied in an imperious, almost a

stagy voice, as for a moment she closed her eyes.

Upon Volochine, her appearance produced an extraordinary effect, as his

sharp little tongue darted out from his dry lips, and his eyes grew

smaller and his whole frame vibrated from sheer physical excitement.

"You haven't introduced us," said Lida, looking round at Sarudine.

"Volochine ... Pavel Lvovitsch ..." stammered the officer.

"And this beauty," he said to himself, "was my mistress." He felt

honestly pleased to think this, at the same time being anxious to show

off before Volochine, while yet bitterly conscious of an irrevocable

loss.

Lida languidly addressed her mother.

"There is some one who wants to speak to you," she said.

"Oh! I can't go now," replied Maria Ivanovna.

"But they are waiting," persisted Lida, almost hysterically.

Maria Ivanovna got up quickly.

Sanine watched Lida, and his nostrils were dilated.

"Won't you come into the garden? It's so hot in here," said Lida, and

without looking round to see if they were coming, she walked out

through the veranda.

As if hypnotized, the men followed her, bound, seemingly, with the

tresses of her hair, so that she could draw them whither she wished.

Volochine walked first, ensnared by her beauty, and apparently

oblivious of aught else.

Lida sat down in the rocking-chair under the linden-tree and stretched

out her pretty little feet clad in black open-work stockings and tan

shoes. It was as if she had two natures; the one overwhelmed with

modesty and shame, the other, full of self-conscious coquetry. The

first nature prompted her to look with disgust upon men, and life, and

herself.