Sanine

"Well, Pavel Lvovitsch," she asked, as her eyelids drooped, "What

impression has our poor little out-of-the-way town made upon you?"

"The impression which probably he experiences who in the depth of the

forest suddenly beholds a radiant flower," replied Volochine, rubbing

his hands.

Then began talk which was thoroughly vapid and insincere, the spoken

being false, and the unspoken, true. Sanine sat silently listening to

this mute but sincere conversation, as expressed by faces, hands, feet

and tremulous accents. Lida was unhappy, Volochine longed for all her

beauty, while Sarudine loathed Lida, Sanine, Volochine, and the world

generally. He wanted to go, yet he could not make a move. He was for

doing something outrageous, yet he could only smoke cigarette after

cigarette, while dominated by the desire to proclaim Lida his mistress

to all present.

"And how do you like being here? Are you not sorry to have left

Petersburg behind you?" asked Lida, suffering meanwhile intense

torture, and wondering why she did not get up and go.

"Mais au contraire!" lisped Volochine, as he waved his hand in a

finicking fashion and gazed ardently at Lida.

"Come! come! no pretty speeches!" said Lida, coquettishly, while to

Sarudine her whole being seemed to say: "You think that I am wretched, don't you? and utterly crushed? But I am

nothing of the kind, my friend. Look at me!"

"Oh, Lidia Petrovna!" said Sarudine, "you surely don't call that a

pretty speech!"

"I beg your pardon?" asked Lida drily, as if she had not heard, and

then, in a different tone, she again addressed Volochine.

"Do tell me something about life in Petersburg. Here, we don't live, we

only vegetate."

Sarudine saw that Volochine was smiling to himself, as if he did not

believe that the former had ever been on intimate terms with Lida.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Very good!" he said to himself, as he bit his lip

viciously.

"Oh! our famous Petersburg life!" Volochine, who chattered with ease,

looked like a silly little monkey babbling of things that it did not

comprehend.

"Who knows?" he thought to himself, his gaze riveted on Lida's

beautiful form.

"I assure you on my word of honour that our life is extremely dull and

colourless. Until to-day I thought that life, generally, was always

dull, whether in the town or in the country."

"Not really!" exclaimed Lida, as she half closed her eyes.

"What makes life worth living is ... a beautiful woman! And the women

in big towns! If you could only see what they were like! Do you know, I

feel convinced that if the world is ever saved it will be by beauty."

This last phrase Volochine unexpectedly added, believing it to be most

apt and illuminating. The expression of his face was one of stupidity

and greed, as he kept reverting to his pet theme, Woman. Sarudine

alternately flushed and pale with jealousy, found it impossible to

remain in one place, but walked restlessly up and down the path.