As though stunned by a blow, Sina at once fell asleep, but woke early,

feeling utterly broken, and cold as a corpse. Her despair had never

slumbered, and for no single moment could she forget that which had

been done. In mute dejection she scrutinized every detail of her room,

as if to discover what since yesterday had suffered change. Yet, from

its corner, touched by morning light, the ikon looked down at her in

friendly wise. The windows, the floor, the furniture were unaltered,

and on the pillows of the adjoining bed lay the fair head of Dubova who

was still fast asleep. All was exactly the same as usual; only the

crumpled dress flung carelessly across a chair told its tale. The flush

on her face at waking soon gave place to an ashen pallor that was

heightened by her coal-black eyebrows. With the awful clearness of an

overwrought brain she rehearsed her experiences of the last few hours.

She saw herself walking through silent streets at sunrise and hostile

windows seemed watching her, while the few persons she met turned round

to look at her. On she went in the dawn-light, hampered by her long

skirts, and holding a little green plush bag, much as some criminal

might stagger homewards. The past night was to her as a night of

delirium. Something mad and strange and overwhelming had happened, yet

how or why she knew not. To have flung all shame aside, to have

forgotten her love for another man, it was this that to her appeared

incomprehensible.

Jaded and sick at heart, she rose, and noiselessly began to dress,

fearful lest Dubova should awake. Then she sat at the window, gazing

anxiously at the green and yellow foliage in the garden. Thoughts

whirled in her brain, thoughts hazy and confused as smoke driven by the

wind. Suddenly Dubova awoke.

"What? Up already? How extraordinary!" she exclaimed.

When Sina returned in the early morning, her friend had only drowsily

asked, "How did you get in such a mess?" and then had fallen asleep

again. Now that she noticed that something was wrong, she hurried

across to Sina, barefooted, and in her night-dress.

"What's the matter? Are you ill?" she asked sympathetically, as might

an elder sister.

Sina winced, as beneath a blow, yet, with a smile on her rosy lips, she

replied in a tone of forced gaiety: "Oh! dear no! Only, I hardly slept at all last night."

Thus was the first lie spoken that converted all her frank, proud

maidenhood to a memory. In its place there was now something false and

sullied. While Dubova was dressing herself, Sina glanced furtively at

her from time to time. Her friend seemed to her bright and pure, and

she herself as repulsive as a crushed reptile. So powerful was this

impression, that even the very part of the room where Dubova stood

appeared full of sunshine, while her own corner was steeped in gloom.

Sina remembered how she had always thought herself purer and more

beautiful than her friend, and the change that had come caused her

intense anguish.




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