Sanine

"Yes," replied Yourii, bitterly, finding a certain pleasure in lashing

his own sins, though conscious that he, Yourii, was absolutely

different from other men. "Yes; that is one of the most monstrously

unjust things in the world. Ask any one of us if he would like to

marry" (he was going to say "a whore," but substituted) "a cocotte,

and he will always tell you 'No.' But in what respect is a man really

any better than a cocotte? She sells herself at least for money, to

earn a living, whereas a man simply gives rein to his lust in wanton

and shameless fashion."

Lialia was silent.

A bat darted backwards and forwards beneath the balcony, unseen, struck

the wall repeatedly with its wings and then, with faint fluttering,

vanished. Yourii listened to all these strange noises of the night, and

then he continued speaking with increasing bitterness. The very of his

voice drew him on.

"The worst of it is that not only do they all know this, and tacitly

agree that it must be so, but they enact complete tragi-comedies,

allowing themselves to become betrothed, and then lying to God and man.

It is always the purest and most innocent girls, too," (he was thinking

jealously of Sina Karsavina) "who become the prey of the vilest

debauchees, tainted physically and morally. Semenoff once said to me,

'the purer the woman, the filthier the man who possesses her,' and he

was right."

"Is that true?" asked Lialia, in a strange tone.

"Yes, most assuredly it is." Yourii smiled bitterly.

"I know nothing--nothing about it," faltered Lialia, with tears in her

voice.

"What?" cried Yourii, for he had not heard her remark.

"Surely Tolia is not like the rest? It's impossible."

She had never spoken of him by his pet name to Yourii before. Then, all

at once, she began to weep.

Touched by her distress, Yourii seized her hand.

"Lialia! Lialitschka! What's the matter? I didn't mean to--Come, come,

my dear little Lialia, don't cry!" he stammered, as he pulled her hands

away from her face and kissed her little wet fingers.

"No! It's true! I know it is!" she sobbed.

Although she had said that she had thought about this, it was in fact

pure imagination on her part, for of Riasantzeff's intimate life she

had never yet formed the slightest conception. Of course she knew that

she was not his first love, and she understood what that meant, though

the impression upon her mind had been a vague and never a permanent

one.