Sanine

She felt that she loved him, and that he loved her. This was the

essential thing; all else for her was of no importance whatever. Yet

now that her brother had spoken thus, in a tone of censure and

contempt, she seemed to stand on the verge of a precipice; that of

which they talked was horrible, and indeed irreparable, her happiness

was at an end; of her love for Riasantzeff there could be no thought

now.

Almost in tears himself, Yourii sought to comfort her, as he kissed her

and stroked her hair. Yet still she wept, bitterly, hopelessly.

"Oh! dear! Oh! dear!" she sobbed, just like a child.

There, in the dusk, she seemed so helpless, so pitiful, that Yourii

felt unspeakably grieved. Pale and confused, he ran into the house,

striking his head against the door, and brought her a glass of water,

half of which he spilt on the ground and over his hands.

"Oh! don't cry, Lialitschka! You mustn't cry like that! What is the

matter? Perhaps Anatole Pavlovitch is better than the rest, Lialia!" he

repeated in despair. Lialia, still sobbing, shook violently, and he

teeth rattled against the rim of the glass.

"What is the matter, miss?" asked the maid-servant in alarm, as she

appeared in the doorway. Lialia rose, and, leaning against the

balustrade, went trembling and in tears towards her room.

"My dear little mistress, tell me, what is it? Shall I call the master,

Yourii Nicolaijevitch?"

Nicolai Yegorovitch at that moment came out of his study, walking in

slow, measured fashion. He stopped short in the doorway, amazed at the

sight of Lialia.

"What has happened?"

"Oh! nothing! A mere trifle!" replied Yourii, with a forced laugh. "We

were talking about Riasantzeff. It's all nonsense!"

Nicolai Yegorovitch looked hard at him and suddenly his face wore a

look of extreme displeasure.

"What the devil have you been saying?" he exclaimed as, shrugging his

shoulders, he turned abruptly on his heel and withdrew.

Yourii flushed angrily, and would have made some insolent reply, but a

sudden sense of shame caused him to remain silent. Feeling irritated

with his father, and grieved for Lialia, while despising himself, he

went down the steps into the garden. A little frog, croaking beneath

his feet, burst like an acorn. He slipped, and with a cry of disgust

sprang aside. Mechanically he wiped his foot for a long while on the

wet grass, feeling a cold shiver down his back.

He frowned. Disgust mental and physical made him think that all things

were revolting and abominable. He groped his way to a seat, and sat

there, staring vacantly at the garden, seeing only broad black patches

amid the general gloom. Sad, dismal thoughts drifted through his brain.