As he stammered out these words he felt all the while that he ought to

have said something very different and that his own emotions should

have been different also. Before he had got the words out he was

certain that the answer would be "no"; and at the same time he had an

impression that something utterly silly and ridiculous was about to

occur.

Lida asked mechanically, "Whose wife?" Then suddenly, she blushed

deeply, and rose, as if intending to speak. But she said nothing and

turned aside in confusion. The moonlight fell full on her features.

"I--love you!" stammered Novikoff.

For him, the moon no longer shone; the evening air seemed stifling, the

earth, he thought, would open beneath his feet.

"I don't know how to make speeches--but--no matter, I love you very

much!"

("Why, very much?" he thought to himself, "as if I were alluding to

ice-cream.") Lida played nervously with a little leaf that had fluttered down into

her hands. What she had just heard embarrassed her, being both

unexpected and futile; besides, it created a novel feeling of

disagreeable restraint between herself and Novikoff whom from her

childhood she had always looked upon as a relative, and whom she liked.

"I really don't know what to say! I had never thought about it."

Novikoff felt a dull pain at his heart, as if it would stop beating.

Very pale, he rose and seized his cap.

"Good-bye," he said, not hearing the sound of his own voice. His

quivering lips were twisted into a meaningless smile.

"Are you going? Good-bye!" said Lida, laughing nervously and proffering

her hand.

Novikoff grasped it hastily, and without putting on his cap strode out

across the grass, into the garden. In the shade he stood still and

gripped his head with both hands.

"My God! I am doomed to such luck as this! Shoot myself? No, that's all

nonsense! Shoot myself, eh?" Wild, incoherent thoughts flashed through

his brain. He felt that he was the most wretched and humiliated and

ridiculous of mortals.

Sanine at first wished to call out to him, but checking the impulse, he

merely smiled. To him it was grotesque that Novikoff should tear his

hair and almost weep because a woman whose body he desired would not

surrender herself to him. At the same time he was rather glad that his

pretty sister did not care for Novikoff.

For some moments Lida remained motionless in the same place, and

Sanine's curious gaze was riveted on her white silhouette in the

moonlight. Sarudine now came from the lighted drawing-room on to the

veranda. Sanine distinctly heard the faint jingling of his-spurs. In

the drawing-room Tanaroff was playing an old-fashioned, mournful waltz

whose languorous cadences floated on the air. Approaching Lida,

Sarudine gently and deftly placed his arm round her waist. Sanine could

perceive that both figures became merged into one that swayed in the

misty light.




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