"Why so pensive?" murmured Sarudine, with shining eyes, as his lips
touched Lida's dainty little ear, Lida was at once joyful and afraid.
Now, as on all occasions when Sarudine embraced her, she felt a strange
thrill. She knew that in intelligence and culture he was her inferior,
and that she could never be dominated by him; yet at the same time she
was aware of something delightful and alarming in letting herself be
touched by this strong, comely young man. She seemed to be gazing down
into a mysterious, unfathomable abyss, and thinking, "I could hurl
myself in, if I chose."
"We shall be seen," she murmured half audibly.
Though not encouraging his embrace, she yet did not shrink from it;
such passive surrender excited him the more.
"One word, just one!" whispered Sarudine, as he crushed her closer to
him, his veins throbbing with desire; "will you come?"
Lida trembled. It was not the first time that he had asked her this
question, and each time she had felt strange tremors that deprived her
of her will.
"Why?" she asked, in a low voice as she gazed dreamily at the moon.
"Why? That I may have you near me, and see you, and talk to you. Oh!
like this, it's torture! Yes, Lida, you're torturing me! Now, will you
come?"
So saying, he strained her to him, passionately. His touch as that of
glowing iron, sent a thrill through her limbs; it seemed as if she were
enveloped in a mist, languorous, dreamy, oppressive. Her lithe, supple
frame grew rigid and then swayed towards him, trembling with pleasure
and yet with fear. Around her all things had undergone a curious,
sudden change. The moon was a moon no longer; it seemed close, close to
the trellis-work of the veranda, as if it hung just above the luminous
lawn. The garden was not the one that she knew, but another garden,
sombre, mysterious, that, suddenly approaching, closed round her. Her
brain reeled. She drew back, and with strange languor, freed herself
from Sarudine's embrace.
"Yes," she murmured with difficulty. Her lips were white and parched.
With faltering steps she re-entered the house, conscious of something
terrible yet alluring that inevitably drew her to the brink of an
abyss.
"Nonsense!" she reflected. "It's not that at all. I am only joking. It
just interests me, and it amuses me, too."
Thus did she seek to persuade herself, as she stood facing the darkened
mirror in her room, wherein she only saw herself en silhouette
against the glass door of the brightly lighted dining-room. Slowly she
raised both arms above her head, and lazily stretched herself, watching
meanwhile the sensuous movements of her supple body.