Sanine;

SANINE

SOME PRESS NOTICES OF

SANINE

/

"It has a treble interest. It
discusses sex-problems with un-
usual candour . . . it gives a
vivid picture of Eussian life . . .
and it reflects the welter of
thoughts and aspirations which
are common to the tohole con-
temporary Western world. " —
New Statesman.

" A book which deals with
powerful human passions in no
lethargic way. It may horrify
by its brutality, and its assault
on ordinary morality may well
be considered startling: yet it
counts for something that M.
Artzibashef does not display
the common fear of life." —
Standard.

"It is of the greatest interest
psychologically, as an outstand-
ing product of a despairing
epoch in Eussian history." —
Daily Chronicle.

" The artistry of the novel,
brutal, direct, detached, coura-
geous, desperately poignant, is
not to be disputed."— Evening
Standard.

" The strength of the book is
undeniable:'— Sund ay Times.

" This is a strong and fascinat-
ing story depicting the unfettered
life of a young Eussian . . .
the background of society and
Eussian scenery is excellent" —
Manchester Courier.

IN PEEPAEATION

THE MILLIONAIRE

BREAKING-POINT

TALES OF THE REVOLUTION

A742.7S

Та nine

BYC MICHAEL ARTZIBASHEF

/u \\ hail letrovicfi n^t^ui bashed

T RAN SLATED BY
PERCY PINKERTON
WITH A PREFACE BY
GILBERT CANNAN

FOURTH IMPRESSION

504453

г \ • г . so

NEW YORK
B. W. HUEBSCH

MCMXV

PREFACE

" Sanine " is a thoroughly uncomfortable book, but it has
a fierce energy which has carried it in a very short space of
time into almost every country in Europe and at lastnnto
this country, where books, like everything else, are expected
to be comfortable. It has roused fury both in Russia and
in Germany, but, being rather a furious effort itself, it has
thriven on that, and reached an enormous success. That is
not necessarily testimony of a book's value or even of its
power. On the other hand, no book becomes international
merely by its capacity for shocking moral prejudices, or by
its ability to titillate the curiosity of the senses. Every
nation has its own writers who can shock and titillate. But
not every nation has the torment of its existence coming to
such a crisis that books like " Sanine " can spring to life
in it. This book was written in the despair which seized
the Intelligenzia of Russia after the last abortive revolution,
when the Constitution which was no constitution was wrung
out of the grand dukes. Even suppose the revolution
had succeeded, the intellectuals must have asked themselves,
even suppose they had mastered the grand dukes and cap-
tured the army, would they have done more than altered the
machinery of government, reduced the quantity of political
injustice, amended the principles of taxation, and possibly
changed the colours of the postage stamps ? Could they
have made society less oppressive to the life of the individual ?
Like all intellectuals, M. Artzibashef is fascinated by the
brutality of human life, and filled with hatred of his own
disgust at it. As with all artists, it is necessary for him
to shake free of his own disgust, or there will be an end of
his art. Intellectual and an artist, less artist for being
intellectual, responding to the despairing mood of those
around him, it became clear to him that political agitation
had failed and must fail because it has a vision of
government and no vision of human life. Society is
factitious. The intellectual asks why. The artist never

5

6 PREFACE

asks these absurd questions. Art is free. If he can attain
art tliat is enough for him. Life, whether or no it be the
slow process of evolution it is generally supposed to be, can
and does look after itself. Society is certainly a nuisance
and a heavy drag upon human energy, but so long as that
energy can express itself in art, society cannot be altogether
obstructive. That, says the intellectual, is well enough for
the artist, but what of the individuals to whom art can
only be at best a keen stimulus, at worst a drugging pleasure ?
Is the dead weight of society altogether to crush their delight
in life ? What is society ? What is it but the accumulated
emanations of the fear and timidity and shyness that beset
human beings whenever they are gathered together ? And to
this accumulation are those who are not artists to bring
nothing but fear and shyness and timidity to make the shadow
over life grow denser and darker ? Is there to be no reaction ?
How can there be individuals worthy of being alive except
through reaction ? And how can there be good government
unless there are good individuals to be governed — individuals
in fine, worthy of being governed ?

In the matters of being fed, clothed, and housed few men
and women feel the hindrance of society. Indeed it is for
those purposes that they are gathered together. Being so,
it is then that their fear and shyness and timidity make
them disguise their real natures and suppress their other
desires and aspirations. It is in the matter of love that
men and women feel society's oppression, submit to it and
set up their subjection as the rule which must be obeyed.
Very rarely is it obeyed except by a few virtuous women who
go through life coldly and destructively, driving the men
with whom they come in contact into the arms of their more
generous sisters. Women have fewer defences against the
tyranny of society, which makes all but a very few either
prostitutes or prigs, exploiting their womanhood in emotional
and physical excitement, their motherhood to defend them-
selves and their self-respect from the consequences of that
indulgence. Men are of harder stuff. Some of them can
escape into the intellectual life ; many preserve only their
practical cunning and, for the rest, are insensible and stupid
and fill their lives with small pleasures and trifling dis-

PREFACE 7

contents, and feed their conceit with success or failure as
they happen.

In Vladimir Sanine Artzibashef has imagined, postu-
lated, a man who has escaped the tyranny of society, is
content to take his living^where he finds it, and determined to
accept whatever life has to offer of joy or sorrow. Returning
to his home, he observes and amuses himself with all that is
going on in the little provincial garrison town, where men
and women — except his mother, who is frozen to the point of
living altogether by formula — are tormented by the exaspera-
tion of unsatisfied desires. He sees Novikoff absurdly and
hopelessly in love with his sister, Lida ; he sees Lida caught
up in an intrigue with an expert soldier love-maker, and
bound, both by her own weakness and by her dependence
upon society for any opinion of her own actions, to continue
in that hateful excitement ; he sees men and women all
round him letting their love and their desire trickle through
their fingers ; he sees Semenojf die, and death also in that
atmosphere is blurred and meaningless. Men and women
plunge into horrible relationships and constantly excuse
themselves. They seek to propitiate society by labouring to
give permanence to fleeting pleasures, the accidents of passion
and propinquity. Love is rare; physical necessity is
common to all men and women ; it is absurd to expect the
growth of the one and the satisfaction of the other often to
coincide. Nature is apparently indifferent and does not
demand love of human beings but only mutual attraction,
and of that are most children born. They grow up to dwell
in the heated confusion which passes for life. Of that mutual
attraction and in that heated confusion two children are born
in this book, Lido's and Sarudine's, Sanine 's and Karsa-
vino's. Lida yields to Society's view of such affairs and is
near broken by it ; Sanine sustains Karsavina and brings
her to the idea, cherished by Thomas Hardy among others,
as a way out of confusion, of a woman's right to have a child
without suffering from impertinent curiosity as to who the
father may be if he be such that she thinks herself better rid
of him. This does not necessarily mean that women would
at once become as loose and casual as men. On the contrary,
it would probably make many of them realize their respon-

8 PREFACE

sibility and fewer of them would capture men as Arabella
captured Jude the Obscure. In any case there is no excuse
for the cruelty which regards a child born out of wedlock as
nothing but evidence of wickedness. A child born in wedlock
may be as lustfully and lovelessly begotten. Marriage does
not necessarily provide relief from physical necessity and
often aggravates it ; and when a child, as often happens, is
nothing to its father and mother but a sordid tie, a constant
reminder of a connexion which both would be happier to
forget, then, for its sake, they are better separate.

It has been objected to M. Artzibashefs work that it deals
so little with love and so much with physical necessity. That
arises, I fancy, because his journalistic intention has over-
ridden his artistic purpose. He has been exasperated into
frankness more than moved to truth. He lias desired to lay
certain facts of modern existence before the world and has
done so in a form which could gain a hearing, as a pure work
of art probably could not. He has attempted a re-valuation
where it is most needed, where the unhappy W eininger failed.
Weininger demanded, insanely, that humanity should re-
nounce sex and the brutality it fosters ; Artzibashef suggests
that the brutishness should be accepted frankly, cleared of
confusion with love, and slowly mastered so that out of passion
love can grow. His book has the noble quality of being full
of the love of life, however loveless. It cannot possibly give
the kind of pleasure sought by those to whom even the Bible is
a dirty book. It is too brutal for that. Books which pander
to that mean desire are of all books the most injurious. But
this is not one of them.

GILBERT CAN NAN

SANINE

That important period in his life when character is
influenced and formed by its first contact with the world
and with men, was not spent by Vladimir Sanine at home,
with his parents. There had been none to guard or guide
him ; and his soul developed in perfect freedom and
independence, just as a tree in the field.

He had been away from home for many years, and,
when he returned, his mother and his sister Lida scarcely
recognized him. His features, voice, and manner had
changed but little, yet something strange and new, and
riper in his whole personality gave a light to his coun-
tenance and endowed it with an altered expression. It
was in the evening that he came home, entering the room
as quietly as if he had only left it five minutes before.
As he stood there, tall, fair, and broad-shouldered, his
calm face with its slightly mocking expression at the
corners of the mouth showed not a sign of fatigue or of
emotion, and the boisterous greeting of his mother and
sister subsided of itself.

While he was eating, and drinking tea, his sister, sitting
opposite, gazed steadfastly at him. She was in love with
him, as most romantic girls usually are with their absent
brother. Lida had always imagined Vladimir to be an
extraordinary person, as strange as any to be found in
books. She pictured his life as one of tragic conflict, sad
and lonely as that of some great, uncomprehended soul.

" Why do you look at me like that ? " asked Sanine,
smiling.

This quiet smile and searching glance formed his usual
expression, but, strange to say, they did not please Lida.
To her, they seemed self-complacent, revealing nought
of spiritual suffering and strife. She looked away and
was silent. Then, mechanically, she kept turning over
the pages of a book.

9

10 S A N I N E

When the meal was at an end, Sanine's mother patted
his head affectionately, and said :

" Now, tell us all about your life, and what you did
there."

" What I did ? " said Sanine, laughing. " Well, I ate,
and drank, and slept ; and sometimes I worked ; and
sometimes I did nothing ! "

It seemed at first as if he were unwilling to speak of
himself, but when his mother questioned him about this
or that, he appeared pleased to narrate his experiences.
Yet, for some reason or other, one felt that he was wholly
indifferent as to the impression produced by his tales.
His manner, kindly and courteous though it was in no
way suggested that intimacy which only exists among
members of a family. Such kindliness and courtesy
seemed to come naturally from him as the light from a
lamp which shines with equal radiance on all objects.

They went out to the garden terrace and sat down on
the steps. Li da sat on a lower one, listening in silence to
her brother. At her heart she felt an icy chill. Her
subtle feminine instinct told her that her brother was not
what she had imagined him to be. In his presence she
felt shy and embarrassed, as if he were a stranger. It
was now evening ; faint shadows encircled them. Sanine
lit a cigarette and the delicate odour of tobacco mingled
with the fragrance of the garden. He told them how life
had tossed him hither and thither ; how he had often
been hungry and a vagrant ; how he had taken part in
political struggles, and how, when weary, he had re-
nounced these.

Lida sat motionless, listening attentively, and looking
as quaint and pretty as any charming girl would look in
summer twilight.

The more he told her, the more she became convinced
that this life which she had painted for herself in such
glowing colours was really most simple and commonplace.
There was something strange in it as well. What was it ?
That she could not define. At any rate, from her brother's
account, it seemed to her very simple, tedious and boring.
Apparently he had lived just anywhere, and had done

SANINE 11

just anything ; at work one day, and idle the next ; it
was also plain that he liked drinking, and knew a good
deal about women. But life such as this had nothing
dark or sinister about it ; in no way did it resemble the
life she imagined her brother had led. He had no ideas
to live for ; he hated no one ; and for no one had he
suffered. At some of his disclosures she was positively
annoyed, especially when he told her that once, being
very hard up, he was obliged to mend his torn trousers
himself.

" Why, do you know how to sew ? " she asked in-
voluntarily, in a tone of surprise and contempt. She
thought it paltry ; unmanly, in fact.

" I did not know at first, but I soon had to learn,"
replied Sanine, who smilingly guessed what his sister
thought.

The girl carelessly shrugged her shoulders, and remained
silent, gazing at the garden. It seemed to her as if,
dreaming of sunshine, she awoke beneath a grey, cold
sky.

Her mother, too, felt depressed. It pained her to think
that her son did not occupy the position to which, socially,
he was entitled. She began by telling him that things
could not go on like this, and that he must be more
sensible in future. At first she spoke warily, but when she
saw that he paid scarcely any attention to her remarks,
she grew angry, and obstinately insisted, as stupid old
women do, thinking her son was trying to tease her.
Sanine was neither surprised nor annoyed : he hardly
seemed to understand what she said, but looked amiably
indifferent, and was silent.

Yet at the question, " How do you propose to live ? "
he answered, smiling, " Oh ! somehow or other."

His calm, firm voice, and open glance made one feel
that those words, which meant nothing to his mother,
had for him a deep and precise significance.

Maria Ivanovna sighed, and after a pause said anxiously:

" Well, after all, it's your affair. You're no longer a
child. You ought to walk round the garden. It's
looking so pretty now."

12 SANINE

" Yes, of course ! Come along, Lida ; come and show
me the garden," said Sanine to his sister, " I have quite
forgotten what it looks like."

Roused from her reverie, Lida sighed and got up. Side
by side they walked down the path leading to the green
depths of the dusky garden.

The Sanines' house was in the main street of the town,
and, the town being small, their garden extended as far
as the river, beyond which were fields. The house was an
old mansion, with rickety pillars on either side and a
broad terrace. The large gloomy garden had run to
waste ; it looked like some dull green cloud that had
descended to earth. At night it seemed haunted. It
was as if some sad spirit were wandering through the
tangled thicket, or restlessly pacing the dusty floors of
the old edifice. On the first floor there was an entire
suite of empty rooms dismal with faded carpets and
dingy curtains. Through the garden there was but one
narrow path or alley, strewn with dead branches and
crushed frogs. What modest, tranquil life there was
appeared to be centred in one corner. There, close to the
house, yellow sand and gravel gleamed, and there, beside
neat flower-beds bright with blossom stood the green
table on which in summer-time tea or lunch was set. This
little corner, touched by the breath of simple peaceful
life, was in sharp contrast to the huge, deserted mansion,
doomed to inevitable decay.

When the house behind them had disappeared from
view and the silent, motionless trees, like thoughtful
witnesses, surrounded them, Sanine suddenly put his arm
round Lida's waist and said in a strange tone, half fierce,
half tender :

" You've become quite a beauty ! The first man you
love will be a happy fellow."

The touch of his arm with its muscles like iron sent a
fiery thrill through Lida's soft, supple frame. Bashful
and trembling, she drew away from him as if at the
approach of some unseen beast of prey.

They had now reached the river's edge. There was a
moist, damp odour from the reeds that swayed pensively

S A N I N E 13

in the stream. On the other side, fields lay dim in
twilight beneath the vast sky where shone the first pale
stars.

Stepping aside, Sanine seized a withered branch, broke
it in two, and flung the pieces into the stream where
swiftly circles appeared on its surface and swiftly vanished.
As if to hail Sanine as their comrade, the reeds bent their
heads.

II

It was about six o'clock. The sun still shone brightly,
but in the garden there were already faint green shadows.
The air was full of light and warmth and peace. Maria
Ivanovna was making jam, and under the green linden-
tree there was a strong smell of boiling sugar and rasp-
berries. Sanine had been busy at the flower-beds all the
morning, trying to revive some of the flowers that suffered
most from the dust and heat.

" You had better pull up the weeds first," suggested
his mother, as from time to time she watched him through
the blue, quivering stream. " Tell Grounjka, and she'll
do it for you."

Sanine looked up, hot and smiling. " Why ? " said he,
as he tossed back his hair that clung to his brow. " Let
them grow as much as they like. I am fond of everything
green."

" You're a funny fellow 1 " said his mother, as she
shrugged her shoulders, good-humouredly. For some
reason or other, his answer had pleased her.

" It is you yourselves that are funny," said Sanine, in
a tone of conviction. He then went into the house to
wash his hands, and, coming back, sat down at his ease
in a wicker arm-chair near the table. He felt happy, and
in a good temper. The verdure, the sunlight and the
blue sky filled him with a keener sense of the joy of life.
Large towns with their bustle and din were to him de-
testable. Around him were sunlight and freedom ; the
future gave him no anxiety ; for he was disposed to accept
from life whatever it could offer him. Sanine shut his
eyes tight, and stretched himself; the tension of his
sound, strong muscles gave him pleasurable thrills.

A gentle breeze was blowing. The whole garden seemed
to sigh. Here and there, sparrows chattered noisily about
their intensely important but incomprehensible little lives,
and Mill, the fox-terrier, with ears erect and red tongue
lolling out, lay in the long grass, listening. The leaves

14

SANINE 15

whispered softly ; their round shadows quivered on the
smooth gravel path.

Maria Ivanovna was vexed at her son's calmness. She
was fond of him, just as she was fond of all her children,
and for that very reason she longed to rouse him, to wound
his self-respect, if only to force him to heed her words
and accept her view of life. Like an ant in the sand, she
had employed every moment of a long existence in building
up the frail structure of her domestic well-being. It was
a long, bare, monotonous edifice, like a barrack or a
hospital, built with countless little bricks that to her, as
an incompetent architect, constituted the graces of life,
though in fact they were petty worries that kept her in a
perpetual state of irritation or of anxiety.

" Do you suppose things will go on like this, later on ? "
she said, with lips compressed, and feigning intense
interest in the boiling jam.

" What do you mean by ' later on ' ? " asked Sanine,
and then sneezed.

Maria Ivanovna thought that he had sneezed on purpose
to annoy her, and, absurd though such a notion was,
looked cross.

" How nice it is to be here, with you ! " said Sanine,
dreamily.

" Yes, it's not so bad," she answered, drily. She was
secretly pleased at her son's praise of the house and garden
that to her were as lifelong kinsfolk.

Sanine looked at her, and then said, thoughtfully :

" If you didn't bother me with all sorts of silly things,
it would be nicer still."

The bland tone in which these words were spoken seemed
at variance with their meaning, so that Maria Ivanovna
did not know whether to be vexed or amused.

" To look at you, and then to think that, as a child, you
were always rather odd," said she, sadly, " and now "

" And now ? " exclaimed Sanine, gleefully, as if he
expected to hear something specially pleasant and
interesting.

" Now you are more crazy than ever ! " said Maria
Ivanovna sharply, shaking her spoon,

16 SANINE

" Well, all the better ! " said Sanine, laughing. After
a pause, he added, " Ah ! here's Novikoff ! "

Out of the house came a tall, fair, good-looking man.
His red silk shirt, fitting tight to his well-proportioned
frame, looked brilliant in the sun ; his pale blue eyes had
a lazy, good-natured expression.

" There you go ! Always quarrelling ! " said he, in a
languid, friendly tone. " And in Heaven's name, what
about ? "

" Well, the fact is, mother thinks that a Grecian nose
would suit me better, while I am quite satisfied with the
one that I have got."

Sanine looked down his nose and, laughing, grasped
the other's big, soft hand.

" So, I should say ! " exclaimed Maria Ivanovna,
pettishly.

Novikoff laughed merrily ; and from the green thicket
came a gentle echo in reply, as if some one yonder heartily
shared his mirth.

" Aha ! I know what it is ! Worrying about your
future."

" What, you, too ? " exclaimed Sanine, in comic alarm.

" It just serves you right."

" Ah ! " cried Sanine. " If it's a case of two to one,
I had better clear out."

" No, it is I that will soon have to clear out," said
Maria Ivanovna with sudden irritation at which she herself
was vexed. Hastily removing her saucepan of jam, she
hurried into the house, without looking back. The terrier
jumped up, and with ears erect watched her go. Then
it rubbed its nose with its front paw, gave another ques-
tioning glance at the house and ran off into the garden.

" Have you got any cigarettes ? " asked Sanine, de-
lighted at his mother's departure.

Novikoff with a lazy movement of his large body pro-
duced a cigarette-case.

" You ought not to tease her so," said he, in a voice of
gentle reproo-. " She's an old lady."

" How have I teased her ? "

f* Well, you see "

SANINE 17

* *

" What do you mean by ' well, you see ? ' It is she
who is always after me. I have never asked anything
of anybody, and therefore people ought to leave me
alone."

Both remained silent.

" Well, how goes it, doctor ? " asked Sanine, as he
watched the tobacco-smoke rising in fantastic curves above
his head.

Novikoff, who was thinking of something else, did not
answer at once.

44 Badly."

14 In what way ? "

44 Oh ! in every way. Everything is so dull and this
little town bores me to death. There's nothing to do."

" Nothing to do ? Why it was you that complained
of not having time to breathe ! "

" That is not what I mean. One can't be always seeing
patients, seeing patients. There is another life besides
that."

" And who prevents you from living that other life ? "

" That is rather a complicated question."

44 In what way is it complicated ? You are a young,
good-looking, healthy man ; what more do you want ? "

44 In my opinion that is not enough," replied Novikoff,
with mild irony.

44 Really ! " laughed Sanine. 4t Well, I think it is a
very great deal."

44 But not enough for me," said Novikoff, laughing in
his turn. It was plain that Sanine's remark about his
health and good looks had pleased him, and yet it had
made him feel shy as a girl.

44 There's one thing that you want," said Sanine,
pensively.

44 And what is that ? "

44 A just conception of life. The monotony of your
existence oppresses you ; and yet, if some one advised
you to give it all up, and go straight away into the wide
world, you would be afraid to do so."

44 And as what should I go ? As a beggar? H . . m!"

4 Yes, as a beggar, even ! When I look at you, I think :

в

18 SANINE

there is a man who in order to give the Russian Empire
a constitution would let himself be shut up in Schlussel-
burg * for the rest of his life, losing all his rights,
and his liberty as well. After all, what is a constitu-
tion to him ? But when it is a question of altering
his own tedious mode of life, and of going elsewhere
to find new interests, he at once asks, * how should
I get a living ? Strong and healthy as I am, should I
not come to grief if I had not got my fixed salary, and
consequently cream in my tea, my silk shirts, stand-up
collars, and all the rest of it ? ' It's funny, upon my word
it is I "

" I cannot see anything funny in it at all. In the first
case, it is the question of a cause, an idea, whereas in the
other " /

" Well ? "

" Oh ! I don't know how to express myself ! " And
Novikoff snapped his fingers.

" There now ! " said Sanine, interrupting. " That's
how you always evade the point. I shall never believe
that the longing for a constitution is stronger in you than
the longing to make the most of your own life."

" That is just a question. Possibly it is."

Sanine waved his hand, irritably.

" Oh ! don't, please ! If somebody were to cut off
your finger, you would feel it more than if it were some
other Russian's finger. That is a fact, eh ? "

" Or a cynicism," said Novikoff, meaning to be sarcastic
when he was merely foolish.

И Possibly. But, all the same, it is the truth. And
now though in Russia and in many other States there is
no constitution, nor the slightest sign of one, it is your
own unsatisfactory life that worries you, not the absence
of a constitution. And if you say it isn't, then you're
telling a lie. What is more," added Sanine, with a merry
twinkle in his eyes, " you are worried not about your
life, but because Lida has not yet fallen in love with you.
Now, isn't that so ? "

" What utter nonsense you're talking ! " cried Novikoff,

* A fortress for political prisoners.

SANINE 19

turning as red as his silk shirt. So confused was he, that
tears rose to his calm, kindly eyes.

" How is it nonsense, when besides Lida you can see
nothing else in the whole world ? The wish to possess
her is written in large letters on your brow."

Novikoff winced perceptibly and began to walk rapidly
up and down the path. If anyone but Lida's brother
had spoken to him in this way it would have pained him
deeply, but to hear such words from Sanine's mouth
amazed him ; in fact at first he scarcely understood them.

44 Look here," he muttered, 44 either you are posing,
or else "

44 Or else — what ? " asked Sanine, smiling.

Novikoff looked aside, shrugged his shoulders, and was
silent. The other inference led him to regard Sanine as
an immoral, bad man. But he could not tell him this,
for, ever since their college days, he had always felt
sincere affection for him, and it seemed to Novikoff im-
possible that he should have chosen a wicked man as his
friend. The effect on his mind was at once bewildering
and unpleasant. The allusion to Lida pained him, but,
as the goddess whom he adored, he could not feel angry
with Sanine for speaking of her. It pleased him, and yet
he felt hurt, as if a burning hand had seized his heart and
had gently pressed it.

Sanine was silent, and smiled good-humouredly.

After a pause he said :

44 Well, finish your statement ; I am in no hurry ! "

Novikoff kept walking up and down the path, as before.
He was evidently hurt. At this moment the terrier came
running back excitedly and rubbed against Sanine's
knees, as if wishful to let every one know how pleased
he was.

44 Good dog 1 " said Sanine, patting him.

Novikoff strove to avoid continuing the discussion, being
afraid that Sanine might return to the subject which for
him personally was the most interesting in the whole
world. Anything that did not concern Lida seemed
futile to him — dull.

44 And — where is Lidia Petrovna ? " he asked mechani-

20 S A N I N E

cally, albeit loth to utter the question that was uppermost
in his mind.

" Lida ? Where should she be ? Walking with officers
on the boulevard, where all our young ladies are to be
found at this time of day."

A look of jealousy darkened his face, as Novikoff asked :

" How can a girl so clever and cultivated as she waste
her time with such empty-headed fools ? "

" Oh 1 my friend," exclaimed Sanine, smiling, " Lida
is handsome, and young, and healthy, just as you are ;
more so, in fact, because she has that which you lack —
keen desire for everything. She wants to know every-
thing, to experience everything — why, here she comes !
You've only got to look at her to understand that. Isn't
she pretty ? "

Lida was shorter and much handsomer than her brother.
Sweetness combined with supple strength gave to her
whole personality charm and distinction. There was a
haughty look in her dark eyes, and her voice, of which she
was proud, sounded rich and musical. She walked slowly
down the steps, moving with the lithe grace of a thorough-
bred, while adroitly holding up her long grey dress.
Behind her, clinking their spurs, came two good-looking
young officers in tightly-fitting riding-breeches and
shining top-boots.

" Who is pretty ? Is it I ? " asked Lida, as she filled
the whole garden with the charm of her voice, her beauty
and her youth. She gave Novikoff her hand, with a side-
glance at her brother, about whose attitude she did not
feel quite clear, never knowing whether he was joking or
in earnest. Grasping her hand tightly, Novikoff grew
very red, but his emotions were unnoticed by Lida, used
as she was to his reverent, bashful glance that never
troubled her.

" Good evening, Vladimir Petrovitch," said the elder,
handsomer and fairer of the two officers, rigid, erect as a
spirited stallion, while his spurs clinked noisily.

Sanine knew him to be Sarudine, a captain of cavalry,
one of Lida's most persistent admirers. The other was
Lieutenant Tanaroff, who regarded Sarudine as the ideal

SANINE 21

soldier, and strove to copy everything he did. He was
taciturn, somewhat clumsy, and not so good-looking as
Sarudine. Tanaroff rattled his spurs in his turn, but
said nothing.

" Yes, you ! " replied Sanine to his sister, gravely.

44 Why, of course I am pretty. You should have said
indescribably pretty ! " And, laughing gaily, Lida sank
into a chair, glancing again at Sanine. Raising her arms
and thus emphasizing the curves of her shapely bosom,
she proceeded to remove her hat, but, in so doing, let a
long hat-pin fall on the gravel, and her veil and hair
became disarranged.

" Andrei Pavlovitch, do please help me ! " she plain-
tively cried to the taciturn lieutenant.

" Yes, she's a beauty ! " murmured Sanine, thinking
aloud, and never taking his eyes off her. Once more Lida
glanced shyly at her brother.

" We're all of us beautiful here," said she.

"What's that? Beautiful? Ha! Ha!" laughed
Sarudine, showing his white, shining teeth. " We are
at best but the modest frame that serves to heighten the
dazzling splendour of your beauty."

" I say, what eloquence, to be sure ! " exclaimed Sanine,
in surprise. There was a slight shade of irony in his tone.

" Lidia Petrovna would make anybody eloquent, V
said Tanaroff the silent, as he tried to help Lida to take
off her hat, and in so doing ruffled her hair. She pre-
tended to be vexed, laughing all the while.

" What ? " drawled Sanine. " Are you eloquent too ? "

" Oh ! let them be ! " whispered Novikofi, hypocriti-
cally, though secretly pleased.

Lida frowned at Sanine, to whom her dark eyes plainly
said :

44 Don't imagine that I cannot see what these people
are. I intend to please myself. I am not a fool any
more than you are, and I know what I am about."

Sanine smiled at her.

At last the hat was removed, which Tanaroff solemnly
placed on the table.

44 Look ! Look what you've done to me, Andrei

22 S A N I N E

Pavlovitch ! " cried Lida half peevishly, half coquettishly.
" You've got my hair into such a tangle ! Now I shall
have to go indoors."

" I'm so awfully sorry ! " stammered Tanaroff, in
confusion.

Lida rose, gathered up her skirts, and ran indoors
laughing, followed by the glances of all the men. When
she had gone they seemed to breathe more freely, without
that nervous sense of restraint which men usually ex-
perience in the presence of a pretty young woman.
Sarudine lighted a cigarette which he smoked with
evident gusto. One felt, when he spoke, that he habitually
took the lead in a conversation, and that what he thought
was something quite different from what he said.

11 1 have just been persuading Lidia Petrovna to study
singing seriously. With such a voice, her career is
assured."

" A fine career, upon my word ! " sullenly rejoined
Novikoff, looking aside.

" What is wrong with it ? " asked Sarudine, in genuine
amazement, removing the cigarette from his lips.

" Why, what's an actress ? Nothing else but a harlot ! "
replied Novikoff, with sudden heat. Jealousy tortured
him ; the thought that the young woman whose body he
loved could appear before other men in an alluring dress
that would exhibit her charms in order to provoke their
passions.

" Surely it is going too far to say that," replied Saru-
dine, raising his eyebrows.

Novikoff's glance was full of hatred. He regarded
Sarudine as one of those men who meant to rob him of
his beloved ; moreover, his good looks annoyed him.

" No, not in the least too far," he retorted. " To
appear half nude on the stage and in some voluptuous
scene exhibit one's personal charms to those who in an
hour or so take their leave as they would of some courtesan
after paying the usual fee ! A charming career indeed ! "

" My friend," said Sanine, " every woman in the first
instance likes to be admired for her personal charms."

Novikoff shrugged his shoulders irritably.

S A N I N E 23

" What a silly, coarse statement ! " said he.

" At any rate, coarse or not, it's the truth," replied
Sanine. " Lida would be most effective on the stage,
and I should like to see her there."

Although in the others this speech roused a certain
instinctive curiosity, they all felt ill at ease. Sarudine,
who thought himself more intelligent and tactful than the
rest, deemed it his duty to dispel this vague feeling of
embarrassment.

" Well, what do you think the young lady ought to
do ? Get married ? Pursue a course of study, or let
her talent be lost ? That would be a crime against nature
that had endowed her with its fairest gift."

" Oh ! " exclaimed Sanine, with undisguised sarcasm,
" till now the idea of such a crime had never entered my
head."

Novikoff laughed maliciously, but replied politely
enough to Sarudine.

" Why a crime ? A good mother or a female doctor
is worth a thousand times more than an actress,"

" Not at all ! " said Tanaroff, indignantly.

"Don't you find this sort of talk rather boring ? " asked
Sanine.

Sarudine's rejoinder was lost in a fit of coughing.
They all of them really thought such a discussion
tedious and unnecessary ; and yet they all felt somewhat
offended. An unpleasant silence reigned.

Lida and Maria Ivanovna appeared on the verandah.
Lida had heard her brother's last words, but did not know
to what they referred.

" You seem to have soon become bored ! " cried she,
laughing. " Let us go down to the river. It is charming
there, now."

As she passed in front of the men, her shapely figure
swayed slightly, and there was a look of dark mystery in
her eyes that seemed to say something, to promise some-
thing.

" Go for a walk till supper- time," said Maria Ivanovna.

" Delighted," exclaimed Sarudine. His spurs clinked,
as he offered Lida his arm.

24 S A N I N E

" I hope that I may be allowed to come too," said
Novikoff, meaning to be satirical, though his face wore a
tearful expression.

" Who is there to prevent you ? " replied Lida, smiling
at him over her shoulder.

" Yes, you go, too," exclaimed Sanine. " I would
come with you if she were not so thoroughly convinced
that I am her brother."

Lida winced somewhat, and glanced swiftly at Sanine,
as she laughed, a short, nervous laugh.

Maria Ivanovna was obviously displeased.

" Why do you talk in that stupid way ? " she bluntly
exclaimed. " I suppose you think it is original ? "

" I really never thought about it at all," was Sanine's
rejoinder.

Maria Ivanovna looked at him in amazement. She had
never been able to understand her son ; she never could
tell when he was joking or in earnest, nor what he thought
or felt, when other comprehensible persons felt and
thought much as she did herself. According to her idea,
a man was always bound to speak and feel and act exactly
as other men of his social and intellectual status were wont
to speak and feel and act. She was also of opinion that
people were not simply men with their natural character-
istics and peculiarities, but that they must be all cast in
one common mould. Her own environment encouraged
and confirmed this belief. Education, she thought,
tended to divide men into two groups, the intelligent and
the unintelligent. The latter might retain their in-
dividuality, which drew upon them the contempt of
others. The former were divided into groups, and their
convictions did not correspond with their personal
qualities, but with their respective positions. Thus,
every student was a revolutionary, every official was
bourgeois, every artist a free thinker, and every officer an
exaggerated stickler for rank. If, however, it chanced
that a student was a Conservative, or an officer an Anar-
chist, this must be regarded as most extraordinary, and
even unpleasant. As for Sanine, according to his origin
and education he ought to have been something quite

S A N I N E 25

different from what he was ; and Maria Ivanovna felt
as Lida, Novikoff and all who came into contact with
him felt, that he had disappointed expectation. With
a mother's instinct she quickly saw the impression that
her son made on those about him ; and it pained her.

Sanine was aware of this. He would fain have re-
assured her, but was at a loss how to begin. At first
he thought of professing sentiments that were false, so
that she might be pacified ; however, he only laughed,
and, rising, went indoors. There, for a while, he lay on
his bed, thinking. It seemed as if men wished to turn
the whole world into a sort of military cloister, with one
set о rules for all, framed with a view to destroy all
indiv duality, or else to make this submit to one vague,
archaic power of some kind. He was even led to reflect
upon Christianity and its fate, but this bored him to such
an extent that he fell asleep, and did not wake until
evening had turned to night.

Maria Ivanovna watched him go, and she, too, sighing
deeply, became immersed in thought. Sarudine, so
she said to herself, was obviously paying court to Lida,
and she hoped that his intentions were serious.

" Lida's already twenty, and Sarudine seems to be
quite a nice sort of young man. They say he'll get his
squadron this year. Of course, he's heavily in debt —
But oh ! why did I have that horrid dream ? I know
it's absurd, yet somehow I can't get it out of my head ! "

This dream was one that she had dreamed on the same
day that Sarudine had first entered the house. She
thought that she saw Lida, dressed all in white, walking
in a green meadow bright with flowers.

Maria Ivanovna sank into an easy chair, leaning her
head on her hand, as old women do, and she gazed at the
darkening sky. Thoughts gloomy and tormenting gave
her no respite, and there was an indefinable something
which caused her to feel anxious and afraid.

Ill

It was already quite dark when the others returned from
their walk. Their clear, merry voices rang out through
the soft dusk that veiled the garden. Lida ran, flushed
and laughing, to her mother. She brought with her cool
scents from the river that blended delightfully with the
fragrance of her own sweet youth and beauty which the
companionship of sympathetic admirers heightened and
enhanced.

" Supper, mamma, let's have supper ! " she cried
playfully dragging her mother along. " Meanwhile
Victor Sergejevitsch is going to sing something to us."

Maria Ivanovna, as she went out to get supper ready,
thought to herself that Fate could surely have nothing
but happiness in store for so beautiful and charming a
girl as her darling Lida.

Sarudine and Tanaroff went to the piano in the
drawing-room, while Lida reclined lazily in the rocking-
chair on the veranda. Novikoff, mute, walked up and
down on the creaking boards of the veranda floor,
furtively glancing at Lida's face, at her firm, full bosom,
at her little feet shod in yellow shoes, and her dainty
ankles. But she took no heed of him nor of his glances,
so enthralled was she by the might and magic of a first
passion. She shut her eyes, and smiled at her thoughts.

In Novikoff' s soul there was the old strife ; he loved
Lida, yet he could not be sure of her feelings towards
himself. At times she loved him, so he thought; and
again, there were times when she did not. If he thought
1 yes,' how easy and pleasant it seemed for this young,
pure, supple body to surrender itself to him. If he
thought * no,' such an idea was foul and detestable ; he
was angry at his own lust, deeming himself vile, and
unworthy of Lida.

At last he determined to be guided by chance.

" If I step on the last board with my right foot, then

I've got to propose ; and if with the left, then "

26

S A N I N E 27

He dared not even think of what would happen in that
case.

He trod on the last board with his left foot. It threw
him into a cold sweat ; but he instantly reassured
himself.

" Pshaw ! What nonsense ! I'm like some old woman !
Now then ; one, two, three — at three I'll go straight up
to her, and speak. Yes, but what am I going to say ?
No matter ! Here goes ! One, two, three ! No, three
times over ! One, two, three ! One, two "

His brain seemed on fire, his mouth grew parched, his
heart beat so violently that his knees shook.

"Don't stamp like that ! " exclaimed Lida, opening
her eyes. " One can't hear anything."

Only then was Novikoff aware that Sarudine was
singing.

The young officer had chosen that old romance,

/ loved you once ! Can you forget ?
Love in my heart is burning yet.

He did not sing badly, but after the style of untrained
singers who seek to give expression by exaggerated tone-
colour. Novikoff found nothing to please him in such a
performance.

" What is that ? One of his own compositions ? "
asked he, with unusual bitterness.

" No ! Don't disturb us, please, but sit down ! " said
Lida, sharply. " And if you don't like music, go and
look at the moon ! "

Just then the moon, large, round and red, was rising
above the black tree-tops. Its soft evasive light touched
the stone steps, and Lida's dress, and her pensive, smiling
face. In the garden the shadows had grown deeper ;
they were now sombre and profound as those of the
forest,

Novikoff sighed, and then blurted out.

" I prefer you to the moon," thinking to himself, " that's
an idiotic remark ! "

Lida burst out laughing.

" What a lumpish compliment ! " she exclaimed.

28 S A N I N E

" I don't know how to pay compliments," was
Novikoff's sullen rejoinder.

" Very well, then, sit still and listen," said Lida, shrug-
ging her shoulders, pettishly.

But you no longer care, I know,

Why should I grieve you with my woe ?

The tones of the piano rang out with silvery clearness
through the green, humid garden. The moonlight
became more and more intense and the shadows harder.
Crossing the grass, Sanine sat down under a linden-tree
and was about to light a cigarette. Then he suddenly
stopped and remained motionless, as if spell-bound by
the evening calm that the sounds of the piano and of this
youthfully sentimental voice in no way disturbed, but
rather served to make more complete.

" Lidia Petrovna ! " cried Novikoff hurriedly, as if
this particular moment must never be lost.

" Well ? " asked Lida mechanically, as she looked at
the garden and the moon above it and the dark boughs
that stood out sharply against its silver disc.

" I have long waited — that is — I have been anxious to
say something to you," Novikoff stammered out.

Sanine turned his head round to listen.

" What about ? " asked Lida, absently.

Sarudine had finished his song and after a pause began
to sing again. He thought that he had a voice of ex-
traordinary beauty, and he much liked to hear it.

Novikoff felt himself growing red, and then pale. It
was as if he were going to faint.

" I — look here — Lidia Petrovna — will you be my
wife ? "

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 mechanicallv, " Whose wife ? " Then

S A N I N E 29

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.

44 Good-bye," he said, not hearing the sound of his own
voice. His quivering lips were twisted into a meaningless
smile.

44 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.

44 My God ! I am doomed to such luck as this !
Shoot myself ? No, that's all nonsense ! Shoot my-
self, 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

30 S A N I N E

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.

" 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 Chinking, "I could
hurl myself in, if I chose."

44 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.

44 One word, just one ! " whispered Sarudine, as he
crushed her closer to him, his veins throbbing with desire ;
44 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.

44 Why ? " she asked, in a low voice as she gazed
dreamily at the moon.

44 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

S A N I N E 31

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.

Left to himself, Sarudine stood erect and shook his
shapely limbs. His eyes were half closed, and, as he
smiled, his teeth shone beneath his fair moustache. He
was accustomed to have luck, and on this occasion he
foresaw even greater enjoyment in the near future. He
imagined Lida in all her voluptuous beauty at the very
moment of surrender. The passion of such a picture
caused him physical pain.

At first, when he paid court to her, and after that, when
she had allowed him to embrace her and kiss her, Lida
had always made him feel somewhat afraid. While he
caressed her, there was something strange, unintelligible
in her dark eyes, as though she secretly despised him

32 S A N I N E

She seemed to him so clever, so absolutely unlike other
women to whom he had always felt himself obviously
superior, and so proud, that for a kiss he looked to receive
a box on the ear. The thought of possessing her was
almost disquieting. At times he believed that she was
just playing with him and his position appeared simply
foolish and absurd. But to-day, after this promise,
uttered hesitatingly, in faltering tones such as he had
heard other women use, he felt suddenly certain of his
power and that victory was near. He knew that things
would be just as he had desired them to be. And to this
sense of voluptuous expectancy was added a touch of
spite : this proud, pure, cultured girl should surrender
to him, as all the others had surrendered ; he would use
her at his pleasure, as he had used the rest. Scenes
libidinous and debasing rose up before him. Lida nude,
with hair dishevelled and inscrutable eyes, became the
central figure in a turbulent orgy of cruelty and lust.
Suddenly he distinctly saw her lying on the ground ; he
heard the swish of the whip ; he observed a blood-red
stripe on the soft, nude, submissive body. His temples
throbbed, he staggered backwards, sparks danced before
his eyes. The thought of it all became physically in-
tolerable. His hand shook as he lit a cigarette ; again
his strong limbs twitched convulsively, and he went
indoors. Sanine who had heard nothing yet who had
seen and comprehended all, followed him, roused almost
to a feeling of jealousy.

" Brutes like that are always lucky," he thought to
himself. " What the devil does it all mean ? Lida
and he ? "

At supper, Maria Ivanovna seemed in a bad temper.
Tanaroff as usual said nothing. He thought what a fine
thing it would be if he were Sarudine, and had such a
sweetheart as Lida to love him. He would have loved
her in quite a different way, though. Sarudine did not
know how to appreciate his good fortune. Lida was pale
and silent, looking at no one. Sarudine was gay, and
on the alert, like a wild beast that scents its prey. Sanine
yawned as usual, ate, drank a good deal of brandy and

S A N I N E 33

apparently seemed longing to go to sleep. But when
supper was over, he declared his intention of walking
home with Sarudine. It was near midnight, and the
moon shone high overhead. Almost in silence the two
walked towards the officer's quarters. All the way
Sanine kept looking furtively at Sarudine, wondering
if he should, or should not, strike him in the face.

" Hm ! Yes ! " he suddenly began, as they got close
to the house, " there are all sorts of blackguards in this
world ! "

" What do you mean by that ? " asked Sarudine,
raising his eyebrows.

" That is so ; speaking generally. Blackguards are
the most fascinating people."

" You don't say so ? " exclaimed Sarudine, smiling.

" Of course they are. There's nothing so boring in all
the world as your so-called honest man. What is an
honest man ? With the programme of honesty and virtue
everybody has long been familiar ; and so it contains
nothing that is new. Such antiquated rubbish robs a
man of all individuality, and his life is lived within the
narrow, tedious limits of virtue. Thou shalt not steal,
nor lie, nor cheat, nor commit adultery. The funny thing
is, that all that is born is one ! Everybody steals, and
lies, and cheats and commits adultery as much as he
can."

" Not everybody," protested Sarudine loftily.

" Yes, yes ; everybody ! You have only got to
examine a man's life in order to get at his sins. Treachery,
for instance. Thus, after rendering to Caesar the things
that are Caesar's, when we go quietly to bed, or sit down
to table, we commit acts of treachery."

" What's that you say ? " cried Sarudine, half angrily.

" Of course we do. We pay taxes ; we serve our time
in the army, yes ; but that means that we harm millions
by warfare and injustice, both of which we abhor. We
go calmly to our beds, when we should hasten to rescue
those who in that very moment are perishing for us and
for our ideas. We eat more than we actually want, and
leave thers to starve, when, as virtuous folk, our whole

О

34 S A N I N E

lives should be devoted to their welfare. So it goes on.
It's plain enough. Now a blackguard, a real, genuine
blackguard is quite another matter. To begin with
he is a perfectly sincere, natural fellow."

" Natural ? "

44 Of course he is. He does only what a man naturally
does. He sees something that does not belong to him,
something that he likes — and, he takes it. He sees a
pretty woman who won't give herself to him,so he manages
to get her, either by force or by craft. And that is per-
fectly natural, the desire and the instinct for self-gratifi-
cation being one of the few traits that distinguish a man
from a beast. The more animal an animal is, the less it
understands of enjoyment, the less able it is to procure
this. It only cares to satisfy its needs. We are all agreed
that man was not created in order to suffer, and that
suffering is not the ideal of human endeavour."

44 Quite so," said Sarudine.

44 Very well, then, enjoyment is the aim of human life.
Paradise is the synonym for absolute enjoyment, and we
all of us, more or less, dream of an earthly paradise. This
legend of paradise is by no means an absurdity, but a
symbol, a dream."

44 Yes," continued Sanine, after a pause, 44 Nature never
meant men to be abstinent, and the sincerest men are
those who do not conceal their desires, that is to say,
those who socially count as blackguards, fellows such as
— you, for instance."

Sarudine started back in amazement.

14 Yes, you," continued Sanine, affecting not to notice
this, 44 You're the best fellow in the world, or, at any
rate, you think you are. Come now, tell me, have you
ever met a better ? "

44 Yes, lots of them," replied Sarudine, with some
hesitation. He had not the least idea what Sanine meant,
nor if he ought to appear amused or annoyed.

44 Well, name them, please," said Sanine.

Sarudine shrugged his shoulders, doubtfully.

44 There, you see ! " exclaimed Sanine gaily. 44 You
yourself are the best of good fellows, and so am I ; yet

S A N I N E 35

we both of us would not object to stealing, or telling lies
or committing adultery — least of all to committing
adultery."

" How original ! " muttered Sarudine, as he again
shrugged his shoulders.

" Do you think so ? " asked the other, with a slight
shade of annoyance in his tone. " Well, I don't ! Yes,
blackguards, as I said, are the most sincere and interesting
people imaginable, for they have no conception of the
bounds of human baseness. I always feel particularly
pleased to shake hands with a blackguard."

He immediately grasped Sarudine' s hand and shook
it vigorously as he looked him full in the face. Then he
frowned, and muttered curtly, " Good-bye, good-night,"
and left him.

For a few moments Sarudine stood perfectly still
and watched him depart. He did not know how to take
such speeches as these of Sanine ; " he became at once
bewildered and uneasy. Then he thought of Lida, and
smiled. Sanine was her brother, and what he had said
was really right after all. He began to feel a sort of
brotherly attachment for him.

" An amusing fellow, by Gad ! " he thought, com-
placently, as if Sanine in a way belonged to him, also.
Then he opened the gate, and went across the moonlit
courtyard to his quarters.

On reaching home, Sanine undressed and got into bed,
where he tried to read " Thus spake Zarathustra " which
he had found among Lida's books. But the first few pages
were enough to irritate him. Such inflated imagery left
him unmoved. He spat, flung the volume aside, and soon
fell fast asleep,

IV

Colonel Nicolai Yegorovitch Svarogitsch who lived in the
little town awaited the arrival of his son, a student at the
Moscow Polytechnic.

The latter was under the surveillance of the police and
had been expelled from Moscow as a suspected person.
It was thought that he was in league with revolutionists.
Yourii Svarogitsch had already written to his parents
informing them of his arrest, his six months' imprison-
ment, and his expulsion from the capital, so that they
were prepared for his return. Though Nicolai Yegoro-
vitch looked upon the whole thing as a piece of boyish
folly, he was really much grieved, for he was very fond of
his son, whom he received with open arms, avoiding any
allusion to this painful subject. For two whole days
Yourii had travelled third-class, and owing to the bad
air, the stench, and the cries of children, he got no sleep
at all. He was utterly exhausted, and had no sooner
greeted his father and his sister Ludmilla (who was always
called Lialia) than he lay down on her bed, and fell
asleep.

He did not wake until evening, when the sun was near
the horizon, and its slanting rays, falling through the
panes, threw rosy squares upon the wall. In the next
room there was a clatter of spoons and glasses ; he could
hear Lialia's merry laugh, and also a man's voice both
pleasant and refined which he did not know. At first
it seemed to him as if he were still in the railway-carriage
and heard the noise of the train, the rattle of the window-
panes and the voices of travellers in the next compart-
ment. But he quickly remembered where he was, and
sat bolt upright on the bed. " Yes, here I am," he
yawned, as, frowning, he thrust his fingers through his
thick, stubborn black hair.

It then occurred to him that he need never have come
home. He had been allowed to choose where he would
stay. Why, then, did he return to his parents ? That

'

S A N I N E 87

he could not explain. He believed, or wished to believe,
that he had fixed upon the most likely place that had
occurred to him. But this was not the case at all. Yourii
had never had to work for a living ; his father kept him
supplied with funds, and the prospect of being alone and
without means among strangers seemed terrible to him.
He was ashamed of such a feeling, and loth to admit it
to himself. Now, however, he thought that he had
made a mistake. His parents could never understand
the whole story, nor form any opinion regarding it ;
that was quite plain. Then again, the material question
would arise, the many useless years that he had cost
his father — it all made a mutually cordial, straight-
forward understanding impossible. Moreover, in this
little town, which he had not seen for two years, he
would find it dreadfully dull. He looked upon all the
inhabitants of petty provincial towns as narrow-minded
folk, incapable of being interested in, or even of under-
standing those philosophical and political questions
which for him were the only really important things of
life.

Yourii got up, and, opening the window, leaned out.
Along the wall of the house there was a little flower-
garden bright with flowers, red, yellow, blue, lilac and
white. It was like a kaleidoscope. Behind it lay the
large dusky garden that, as all gardens in this town,
stretched down to the river, which glimmered like dull
glass between the stems of the trees. It was a calm,
clear evening. Yourii felt a vague sense of depression.
He had lived too long in large towns built of stone, and
though he liked to fancy that he was fond of nature,
she really gave him nothing, neither solace, nor peace,
nor joy, and only roused in him a vague, dreamy, morbid
longing.

" Aha ! You're up at last ! it was about time,"
said Lialia, as she entered the room.

Oppressed as he was by the sense of his uncertain
position and by the melancholy of the dying day, Yourii
felt almost vexed by his sister's gaiety and by her merry
voice.

38 S A N I N E

" What are you so pleased about ? " he asked abruptly.

" Well, I never ! " cried Lialia, wide-eyed, while she
laughed again, just as if her brother's question had re-
minded her of something particularly amusing.

" Imagine your asking me why I am so pleased ?
You see, I am never bored. I have no time for that
sort of thing."

Then, in a graver tone, and evidently proud of her
last remark, she added.

" We live in such interesting times that it would really
be a sin to feel bored. I have got the workmen to teach,
and then the library takes up a lot of my time. While
you were away, we started a popular library, and it is
going very well indeed."

At any other time this would have interested Yourii,
but now something made him indifferent. Lialia looked
very serious, waiting, as a child might wait, for her
brother's praise. At last he managed to murmur.

" Oh ! really ! "

" With all that to do, can you expect me to be bored ? "
said Lialia contentedly.

" Well, anyhow, everything bores me," replied Yourii
involuntarily. She pretended to be hurt.

" That's very nice of you, I am sure. You've hardly
been two hours in the house, and asleep most of the time,
yet you are bored already ! "

"It is not my fault, but my misfortune," replied
Yourii, in a slightly arrogant tone. He thought it
showed superior intelligence to be bored rather than
amused.

" Your misfortune, indeed ! " cried Lialia, mockingly.
" Ha ! Ha ! " She pretended to slap him. " Ha ! Ha ! "

Yourii did not perceive that he had already recovered
his good humour. Lialia' s merry voice and her joy of
living had speedily banished his depression which he had
imagined to be very real and deep. Lialia did not believe
in his melancholy, and therefore his remarks caused her
no concern.

Yourii looked at her, and said with a smile.

" I am never merry."

1

S A N I N E 39

At this Lialia laughed, as though he had said something
vastly droll. Щ

44 Very well, Knight of the Rueful Countenance, if you
aren't you aren't. Never mind, come with me, and I will
introduce you to a charming young man. Come ! " -i

So saying she took her brother's hand, and laughingly
led him along.

44 Stop ! Who is this charming young man ? "

44 My fiance," cried Lialia, as, joyful and confused, she
twisted sharply round so that her gown was puffed out.
Yourii knew already, from his father's and sister's letters,
that a young doctor recently established in the town had
been paying court to Lialia, but he was not aware that
their engagement was a fait accompli.

44 You don't say so ? " said he, in amazement. It
seemed to him so strange that pretty, fresh-looking little
Lialia, almost a child, should already have a lover, and
should soon become a bride — a wife. It touched him
to a vague sense of pity for his sister. Yourii put his arm
round Lialia's waist and went with her into the dining-
room where in the lamp-light shone the large, highly
polished samovar. At the table, by the side of Nicolai
Yegorovitch sat a well-built young man, not Russian in
type, with bronzed features and keen bright eyes.

He rose in simple, friendly fashion to meet Yourii.

44 Introduce me."

44 Anatole Pavlovitch Riasantzeff ! " cried Lialia, with
a gesture of comic solemnity.

44 Who craves your friendship and indulgence," added
Riasantzeff, joking in his turn.

With a sincere wish to become friends, the two shook
hands. For a moment it seemed as if they would embrace,
but they refrained, merely exchanging frank, amicable
glances.

44 So this is her brother, is it ? " thought Riasantzeff,
in surprise, for he had imagined that a brother of Lialia,
short, fair, and merry, would be short, fair and merry
too. Yourii, on the contrary was tall, thin and dark,
though as good-looking as Lialia, and with the same
regular features.

40 S A N I N E

And, as Yourii looked at Riasantzeff, he thought to
himself : " So this is the man who in my little sister
Lialia, as fresh and fair as a spring morning, loves the
woman; loves her just as I myself have loved women."
Somehow, it hurt him to look at Lialia and Riasantzeff,
as if he feared that they would read his thoughts.

The two men felt that they had much that was impor-
tant to say to each other. Yourii would have liked to
ask:

" Do you love Lialia ? Really and truly ? It would be
sad, and indeed shameful, if you were to betray her ;
she's so pure, so innocent ! "

And Riasantzeff would have liked to answer :

" Yes, I love your sister deeply ; who could do any-
thing else but love her ? Look how pure and sweet, and
charming she is ; how fond she is of me ; and what a
pretty dimple she's got ! "

But instead of all this, Yourii said nothing, and
Riasantzeff asked :

" Have you been expelled for long ? "

" For five years," was Yourii's answer.

At these words Nicolai Yegorovitch, who was pacing
up and down the room, stopped for a moment and then,
recollecting himself, he continued his walk with the
regular, precise steps of an old soldier. As yet he was
ignorant of the details of his son's exile, and this unex-
pected news came as a shock.

" What the devil does it all mean ? " he muttered to
hi mself.

Lialia understood this movement of her father's. She
was afraid of scenes, and tried to change the conver-
sation.

" How foolish of me," she thought, " not to have
remembered to tell Anatole ! "

But Riasantzeff did not know the real facts, and,
replying to Lialia' s invitation to have some tea, he again
began to question Yourii.

" And what do you think of doing now ? "

Nicolai Yegorovitch frowned, and said nothing. Yourii
at once knew what his father's silence meant : and

S A N I N E 41

before he had reflected upon the consequences of such an
answer he replied, defiantly and with irritation,

" Nothing for the moment."

" How do you mean — nothing ? " asked Nicolai
Yegorovitch, stopping short. He had not raised his
voice, but its tone clearly conveyed a hidden reproach.
" How can you say such a thing ? As if I were obliged
always to have you round my neck ! How can you
forget that I am old, and that it is high time that you
earned your own living ? I say nothing. Live as you
like ! But can't you yourself understand ? " The tone
implied all this. And the more it made Yourii feel that
his father was right in thinking as he did, the more he
took offence.

" Yes, nothing ! What do you expect me to do ? "
he asked provocatively.

Nicolai Yegorovitch was about to make a cutting retort,
but said nothing, merely shrugging his shoulders and with
measured tread resuming his march from one corner of the
room to the other. He was too well-bred to wrangle
with his son on the very day of his arrival. Yourii
watched him with flashing eyes, being hardly able to
control himself and ready on the slightest chance to open
the quarrel. Lialia was almost in tears. She glanced
imploringly from her brother to her father. Riasantzeff
at last understood the situation, and he felt so sorry for
Lialia, that, clumsily enough, he turned the talk into
another channel.

Slowly, tediously, the evening passed. Yourii would
not admit that he was blameworthy, for he did not agree
with his father that politics were no part of his business.
He considered that his father was incapable of under-
standing the simplest things, being old and void of
intelligence. Unconsciously he blamed him for his old
age and his antiquated ideas : they enraged him. The
topics touched upon by Riasantzeff did not interest him.
He scarcely listened, but steadily watched his father with
black, glittering eyes. Just at supper- time came Novikoff,
Ivanoff and Scmenoff.

Semenoff was a consumptive student who for some

42 S A N I N E

months past had lived in the town, where he gave lessons.
He was thin, ugly, and looked very delicate. Upon his
face, which was prematurely aged, lay the fleeting shadow
of approaching death. Ivanoff was a schoolmaster, a
long-haired, broad-shouldered, ungainly man. They had
been walking on the boulevard, and hearing of Yourii's
arrival had come to salute him. With their coming
things grew more cheerful. There was laughter and
joking, and at supper much was drunk. Ivanoff dis-
tinguished himself in this respect. During the few days
that followed his unfortunate proposal to Lida, Novikoff
had become somewhat calmer. That Lida had refused
him might have been accidental, he thought ; it was his
fault, indeed, as he ought to have prepared her for such
an avowal. Nevertheless it was painful to him to visit
the Sanines. Therefore he endeavoured to meet Lida
elsewhere, either in the street, or at the house of a
mutual friend. She, for her part, pitied him, and, in a
way, blamed herself which caused her to treat him with
exaggerated cordiality, so that Novikoff once more began
to hope.

" What do you say to this ? " he asked, just as they
were all going, " Let's arrange a picnic at the convent,
shall we ? "

The convent, situated on a hill at no great distance
from the town, was a favourite place for excursions.
It was near the river, and the road leading to it was
good.

Devoted as she was to every kind of amusement such as
bathing, rowing and walks in the woods, Lialia welcomed
the idea with enthusiasm.

" Yes, of course ! Of course ! But when is it to be ? "

" Well, why not to-morrow ? " said Novikoff.

" Who else shall we ask ? " asked Riasantzeff, equally
pleased at the prospect of a day's outing. In the woods
he would be able to hold Lialia in his arms, to kiss her,
and feel that the sweet body he coveted was near.

" Let us see. We are six. Suppose we ask Schafroff ? "

" Who is he ? " inquired Yourii.

"Oh! he's a young student."

S A N I N E 43

" Very well ; and Ludmilla Nicolaievna will invite
Karsavina and Olga Ivanovna."

44 Who are they ? " asked Yourii once more.

Lialia laughed. " You will see ! " she said, kissing the
tips of her fingers and looking very mysterious.

" Aha ! " said Yourii, smiling. " Well, we shall see
what we shall see ! "

After some hesitation, Novikoff with an air of in-
difference, remarked :

44 We might ask the Sanines too."

44 Oh ! we must have Lida," cried Lialia, not because
she particularly liked the girl, but because she knew of
Novikoff's passion, and wished to please him. She was
so happy herself in her own love, that she wanted all those
about her to be happy also.

44 Then we shall have to invite the officers, too,"
observed Ivanoff, maliciously.

44 What does that matter ? Let us do so. The more
the merrier ! "

They all stood at the front door, in the moonlight.

44 What a lovely night ! " exclaimed Lialia, as un-
consciously she drew closer to her lover. She did not wish
him to go yet. Riasantzeff with his elbow pressed her
warm, round arm.

44 Yes, it's a wonderful night ! " he replied, giving to these
simple words a meaning that they two alone could seize.

44 Oh ! you, and your night ! " muttered Ivanoff in his
deep bass. 44 I'm sleepy, so good-night, sirs ! "

And he slouched off, along the street, swinging his arms
like the sails of a windmill.

Novikoff and Semenoff went next, and Riasantzeff
was a long while saying good-bye to Lialia, pretending
to talk about the picnic.

44 Now, we must all go to bye-bye," said Lialia, laugh-
ingly, when he had taken his leave. Then she sighed, being
loth to leave the moonlight, the soft night air, and all for
which her youth and beauty longed. Yourii remembered
that his father had not yet retired to rest, and feared
that, if they met, a painful and useless discussion would
be inevitable.

44 S A N I N E

" No ! " he replied, his eyes fixed on the faint blue mist
about the river, " No ! I don't want to go to sleep. I
shall go out for a while."

" As you like," said Lialia, in her sweet, gentle voice.
Stretching herself, she half closed her eyes like a cat,
smiled at the moonlight, and went in. For a few minutes
Yourii stood there, watching the dark shadows of the
houses and the trees ; then he went in the same direction
that Semenoff had taken.

The latter had not gone far, walking slowly and stooping
as he coughed. His black shadow followed him along
the moonlit road. Yourii soon overtook him and at
once noticed how changed he was. During supper
Semenoff had joked and laughed more perhaps than
anyone else, but now he walked along, gloomy and
self-absorbed, and in his hollow cough there was something
hopeless and threatening like the disease from which he
suffered.

" Ah ! it's you ! " he said, somewhat peevishly, so
Yourii thought.

" I wasn't sleepy. I'll walk back with you, if you like."

" Yes, do ! " replied Semenoff, carelessly.

" Aren't you cold ? " asked Yourii, merely because
this distressing cough made him nervous.

"lam always cold," replied Semenoff irritably.

Yourii felt pained, as if he had purposely touched a
sore point.

" Is it a long while since you left the University ? " he
asked.

Semenoff did not immediately reply.

" A long while," he said, at last.

Yourii then spoke of the feeling that actually existed
among the students and of what they considered most
important and essential. He began simply and impas-
sively, but by degrees let himself go, expressing himself
with fervour and point.

Semenoff said nothing, and listened.

Then Yourii deplored the lack of revolutionary spirit
among the masses. It was plain that he felt this deeply.

" Did you read Bebel's last speech ? " he asked.

S A N I N E 45

" Yes, I did," replied Semenoff.

" Well, what do you say ? "

Semenoff irritably flourished his stick, which had a
crooked handle. His shadow similarly waved a long
black arm which made Yourii think of the black wings of
some infuriated bird of prey.

" What do I say ? " he blurted out. " I say that I am
going to die."

And again he waved his stick and again the sinister
shadow imitated his gesture. This time Semenoff also
noticed it.

" Do you see ? " said he bitterly. " There, behind me,
stands Death, watching my every movement. What's
Bebel to me ? Just a babbler, who babbles about this.
And then some other fool will babble about that. It is all
the same to me ! If I don't die to-day, I shall die to-
morrow."

Yourii made no answer. He felt confused and hurt.

" You, for instance," continued Semenoff, " you
think that it's very important, all this that goes on at the
University, and what Bebel says. But what I think is
that, if you knew for certain, as I do, that you were going
to die you would not care in the least what Bebel or
Nietzsche or Tolstoi or anybody else said."

Semenoff was silent.

The moon still shone brightly, and ever the black
shadow followed in their wake.

" My constitution's done for ! " said Semenoff suddenly
in quite a different voice, thin and querulous. " If you
knew how I dread dying. . . . Especially on such a
bright, soft night as this," he continued plaintively,
turning to Yourii his ugly haggard face and glittering
eyes. " Everything lives, and I must die. To you that
sounds a hackneyed phrase, I feel certain. 4 And I must
die.' But it is not from a novel, not taken from a work
written with 4 artistic truth of presentment.' I really am
going to die, and to me the words do not seem hackneyed.
One day you will not think that they are, either. I am
dying, dying, and all is over 1 "
Semenoff coughed again.

46 S A N I N E

" I often think that before long I shall be in utter
darkness, buried in the cold earth, my nose fallen in, and
my hands rotting, and here in the world all will be just
as it is now, while I walk along alive. And you'll be
living, and breathing this air, and enjoying this moonlight,
and you'll go past my grave where I lie, hideous and
corrupted. What do you suppose I care for Bebel, or
Tolstoi or a million other gibbering apes ? " These last
words he uttered with sudden fury. Yourii was too
depressed to reply.

"Well, good-night!" said Semenoff faintly. "I
must go in."

Yourii shook hands with him, feeling deep pity for him,
hollow-chested, round-shouldered, and with the crooked
stick hanging from a button of his overcoat. He would
have liked to say something consoling that might
encourage hope, but he felt that this was impossible.

" Good-bye ! " he said, sighing.

Semenoff raised his cap and opened the gate. The
sound of his footsteps and of his cough grew fainter,
and then all was still. Yourii turned homewards. All
that only one short half-hour ago had seemed to him
bright and fair and calm — the moonlight, the starry
heaven, the poplar trees touched with silvery splendour,
the mysterious shadows — all were now dead, and cold
and terrible as some vast, tremendous tomb.

On reaching home, he went softly to his room and
opened the window looking on to the garden. For the
first time in his life he reflected that all that had en-
grossed him, and for which he had shown such zeal and
unselfishness was really not the right, the important
thing. If, so he thought, some day, like Semenoff, he
were about to die, he would feel no burning regret that
men had not been made happier by his efforts, nor grief
that his life-long ideals remained unrealized. The only
grief would be that he must die, must lose sight, and
sense, and hearing, before having had time to taste all
the joys that life could yield.

He was ashamed of such a thought, and, putting it
aside, sought for an explanation.

S A N I N E 47

" Life is conflict."

" Yes, but conflict for whom, if not for one's self, for
one's own place in the sun ? "

Thus spake a voice within. Yourii affected not to hear
it and strove to think of something else. But his mind
reverted to this thought without ceasing ; it tormented
him even to bitter tears.

When Lida Sanine received Lialia's invitation, she
showed it to her brother. She thought that he would
refuse ; in fact, she hoped as much. She felt that on the
moonlit river she would again be drawn to Sarudine,
and would again experience that sensation at once
delicious and disquieting. At the same time she was
ashamed that her brother should know that it was
Sarudine, of all people, whom he cordially despised.

But Sanine at once accepted with pleasure.

The day was an ideal one ; bright sunlight and a
cloudless sky.

" No doubt there will be some nice girls there, whose
acquaintance you may care to make," said Lida, mechani-
cally.

" Ah ! that's good ! " said Sanine. " The weather
is lovely, too ; so let's go ! "

At the time appointed, Sarudine and Tanaroff drove
up in the large lineika belonging to their squadron with
two big regimental horses.

" Lidia Petrovna, we are waiting for you," cried
Sarudine, looking extremely smart in white, and heavily
scented.

Lida in a light gauzy dress with a collar and waist-band
of rose-coloured velvet ran down the steps and held out
both her hands to Sarudine. For a moment he grasped
them tightly, as he glanced admiringly at her person.

" Let us go, let us go," she exclaimed, in excitement,
and confusion, for she knew the meaning of that glance.

Very soon the lineika was swiftly rolling along the little-
used road across the steppes. The tall stems of the grass
bent beneath the wheels ; the fresh breeze as it lightly
touched the hair, made the grasses wave on either side.
Outside the town they overtook another carriage con-
taining Lialia, Yourii, Riasantzeff, Novikoff, Ivanoff,
and Semenoff. They were cramped and uncomfortable,
yet all were merry and in high spirits. Only Yourii,

48

S A N I N E 49

after last night's talk, was puzzled by Semenoff s behaviour.
He could not understand how the latter could laugh and
joke like the others. After all that he had told him, such
mirth seemed strange. " Was it all put on ? " he thought,
as he furtively glanced at Semenoff. He shrank from such
an explanation. From both carriages there was a lively
interchange of wit and raillery. Novikoff jumped down
and ran races through the grass with Lida. Apparently
there was a tacit understanding between them to appear
to be the best of friends, for they kept merrily teasing
each other all the time.

They now approached the hill on whose summit stood
the convent with its glittering cupolas and white stone
walls. The hill was covered by woods, and the curled tips
of the oak-trees looked like wool. There were oak-trees
also on the islands at the foot of it, where the broad,
calm river flowed.

Leaving the road, the horses trotted over the moist,
rich turf in which the carriage-wheels made deep ruts.
There was a pleasant odour of earth and of green leaves.

At the appointed place, a meadow, seated on the grass
were a young student and two girls wearing the dress of
Little Russia. Being the first to arrive, they were
busily preparing tea and light refreshments.

When the carriage stopped, the horses snorted and
whisked away flies with their tails. Everybody jumped
down, enlivened and refreshed by the drive and the
sweet country air. Lialia bestowed resounding kisses
upon the two girls who were making tea, and introduced
them to her brother and to Sanine, whom they regarded
with shy curiosity. Lida suddenly remembered that
the two men did not know each other. tw Allow me,"
she said to Yourii, " to introduce to you my brother
Vladimir." Sanine smiled and grasped Yourii's hand,
but the latter scarcely noticed him. Sanine found every-
body interesting and liked making new acquaintances.
Yourii considered that very few people in this world were
interesting, and always felt disinclined to meet strangers.
Ivanoff knew Sanine slightly and liked what he had
heard about him. He was the first to go up to him

D

50 S A N I N E

and begin talking, while Semenoff ceremoniously shook
hands with him.

" Now we can all enjoy ourselves after these tiresome
formalities," cried Lialia.

At first a certain stiffness prevailed, for many of the
party were complete strangers to each other. But as they
began to eat, when the men had had several liqueurs,
and the ladies wine, such constraint gave way to mirjth.
They drank freely, and there was much laughter and
joking. Some ran races and others clambered up the
hill-side. All around was so calm and bright and the
green woods so fair, that nothing sad or sinister could
cast its shadows on their souls.

" If everybody were to jump about and run like this,"
said Riasantzeff, flushed and breathless, " nine-tenths
of the world's diseases would not exist."

" Nor the vices either," added Lialia.

" Well, as regards vice there will always be plenty of
that," observed Ivanoff, and although no one thought
such a remark either witty or wise, it provoked hearty
laughter.

As they were having tea, it was the sunset hour. The
river gleamed like gold, and through the trees fell slanting
rays of warm red light.

" Now for the boat ! " cried Lida, as, holding up her
skirts, she ran down to the river-bank. " Who'll get
there first ? "

Some ran after her, while others followed at a more
leisurely pace, and amid much laughter they all got into
a large painted boat.

" Let her go ! " cried Lida, in a merry voice of command.
The boat slid away from the shore leaving behind it two
broad stripes on the water that disappeared in ripples
at the river's edge.

" Yourii Nicolaijevitch, why are you so silent ? "
asked Lida.

Yourii smiled. " I've got nothing to say."

" Impossible ! " she answered, with a pretty pout,
throwing back her head as if she knew that all men thought
her irresistible.

S A N I N E 51

" Yourii doesn't like talking nonsense," said Semenoff.
44 He requires ..."

44 A serious subject, is that it ? " exclaimed Lida,
interrupting.

" Look ! there is a serious subject ! " said Sarudine,
pointing to the shore.

Where the bank was steep, between the gnarled roots
of a rugged oak one could see a narrow aperture, dark and
mysterious, which was partially hidden by weeds and
grasses.

11 What is that ? " asked Schafroff, who was unfamiliar
with this part of the country.

" A cavern," replied Ivanoff.

44 What sort of cavern ? "

44 The devil only knows ! They say that once it was a
coiners' den. As usual they were all caught. Rather
hard lines, wasn't it ? " said Ivanoff.

44 Perhaps you'd like to start a business of that sort
yourself and manufacture sham twenty-copeck pieces ? "
asked Novikoff.

44 Copecks ? Not I ! Roubles, my friend, roubles ! "

44 H — m ! " muttered Sarudine, shrugging his shoul-
ders. He did not like Ivanoff, whose jokes to him
were unintelligible.

44 Yes, they were all caught, and the cave was filled up ;
it gradually collapsed, and no one ever goes into it now.
As a child I often used to creep in there. It is a most
interesting place,"

44 Interesting ? I should rather think so ! " exclaimed
Lida.

44 Victor Sergejevitsch, suppose you go in ? You're
one of the brave ones."

44 Why ? " asked Sarudine, somewhat perplexed.

44 I'll go ! " exclaimed Yourii, blushing to think that
the others would accuse him of showing off.

44 It's a wonderful place ! " said Ivanoff by way of
encouragement.

44 Aren't you going too ? " asked Novikoff,

44 No, I'd rather stop here ! "

At this they all laughed,

52 S A N I N E

The boat drew near the bank and a wave of cold air
from the cavern passed over their heads.

" For heaven's sake, Yourii, don't do such a silly thing !"
said Lialia, trying to dissuade her brother. " It really is
silly of you ! "

" Silly ? Of course it is." Yourii, smiling, assented.
" Semenoff, just give me that candle, will you ? "

" Where shall I find it ? "

" There is one behind you, in the hamper."

Semenoff coolly produced the candle.

" Are you really going ? " asked a tall girl, magnificently
proportioned. Lialia called her Sina, her surname being
Karsavina.

" Of course I am. Why not ? " replied Yourii, striving
to show utter indifference. He recollected having done
this when engaged in some of his political adventures.
The thought for some reason or other was not an agreeable
one.

The entrance to the cavern was damp and dark.
" Brrr ! " exclaimed Sanine, as he looked Ы. To him it
seemed absurd that Yourii should explore a disagreeable,
dangerous place simply because others watched him
doing it. Yourii, as self-conscious as ever, lighted the
candle, thinking inwardly, " I am making myself
rather ridiculous, am I not ? " But so far from seeming
ridiculous, he won admiration, especially from the ladies,
who were in an agreeable state of curiosity bordering on
alarm. He waited till the candle burnt more brightly and
then, laughing to avoid being laughed at, disappeared in
the darkness. The light seemed to have vanished,
also, They all suddenly felt concern for his safety and
intense curiosity as to what would happen.

" Look out for wolves ! " cried Riasantzeff.

" It's all right. I've got a revolver ! " came the
answer. It sounded faint and weird.

Yourii advanced slowly and with caution. The sides
of the cavern were low, uneven, and damp as the walls
of a large cellar. The ground was so irregular that twice
Yourii just missed falling into a hole. He thought it
would be best to turn back, or to sit down and wait

S A N I N E 53

a while so that he could say that he had gone a good
way in.

Suddenly he heard the sound of footsteps behind him
slipping on the wet clay, and of some one breathing hard.
He held the light aloft.

44 Sinaida Karsavina ! " he exclaimed in amazement.

" Her very self ! " replied Sina gaily, as she caught up
her dress and jumped lightly over a hole. Yourii was
glad that she, this merry, handsome girl, had come, and
he greeted her with laughing eyes.

" Let us go on," said Sina shyly.

Yourii obediently advanced. No thoughts of danger
troubled him now, and he was specially careful to light
the way for his companion. He perceived several exits,
but all were blocked. In one corner lay a few rotten
planks, that looked like the remains of some old coffin.

44 Not very interesting, eh ? " said Yourii, uncon-
sciously lowering his voice. The mass of earth oppressed
him.

44 Oh ! yes it is ! " whispered Sina, and as she looked
round her wide eyes gleamed in the candle-light. She
was nervous, and instinctively kept close to Yourii for
protection. This Yourii noticed. He felt a strange
sympathy for his fair, frail companion.

" It is like being buried alive," she continued. " We
might scream, but nobody would hear us."

" Of course not," laughed Yourii.

Then a sudden thought caused his brain to reel.
This beautiful girl, so fresh, so desirable, was at his
mercy. No one could see or hear them. . . . To Yourii
such a thought seemed unutterably base. He quickly
banished it, and said :

" Suppose we try ? "

His voice trembled. Could Sina have read his thoughts?

44 Try what ? " she asked.

44 Suppose I fire ? " said Yourii, producing his revolver.

44 Will the earth fall in on us ? "

44 1 don't know," he replied, though he felt certain
that nothing would happen. 4\ Are you afraid ? "

44 Oh no ! Fire away ! " said Sina, as she retreated a

54 S A N I N E

step or so. Holding out the revolver, he fired. There was
a flash, and a dense cloud of smoke enveloped them, as
the echo of the report slowly died away.

" There ! That's all," said Yourii.

" Let us go back."

They retraced their steps, but as Sina walked on in
front of Yourii the sight of her round, firm hips again
brought sensuous thoughts to his mind that he found it
hard to ignore.

" I say, Sina Karsavina ! " His voice faltered. "lam
going to ask you an interesting psychological question.
How was it that you did not feel afraid to come here
with me ? You said yourself that if we screamed no
one would hear us. . . You don't know me in the least ! "

Sina blushed in the darkness and was silent. At last
she murmured. " Because I thought that you were to
be trusted."

" And suppose that you had been mistaken ? "

" Then, I should. . . have drowned myself," said
Sina almost inaudibly.

The words filled Yourii with pity. His passion subsided,
and he felt suddenly solaced.

" What a good little girl ! " he thought, sincerely
touched by such frank, simple modesty.

Proud of her reply, and gratified by his silent approval,
Sina smiled at him, as they returned to the entrance of
the cavern. Meanwhile she kept wondering why his
question had not seemed offensive or shameful to her,
but, on the contrary, quite agreeable.

VI

After waiting a while at the entrance, and making
sundry jokes at the expense of Sina and Yourii, the others
wandered along the river-bank. The men lit cigarettes
and threw the matches into the water, watching these
make large circles on the surface of the stream. Lida,
with arms a-kimbo, tripped along, singing softly as she
went, and her pretty little feet in dainty yellow shoes
now and again executed an impromptu dance. Lialia
picked flowers, which she flung at Riasantzeff, caressing
him with her eyes.

" What do you say to a drink ? " Ivanoff asked Sanine.

" Splendid idea ! " replied the other.

Getting into the boat, they uncorked several bottles of
beer and proceeded to drink.

" Shocking intemperance ! " cried Lialia, pelting them
with tufts of grass.

11 First-rate stuff ! " said Ivanoff, smacking his lips.

Sanine laughed.

44 1 have often wondered why people are so dead against
alcohol," he said jestingly. " In my opinion only a
drunken man lives his life as it ought to be lived."

" That is, like a brute ! " replied Novikoff from the
bank.

" Very likely," said Sanine, " but at any rate a drunken
man only does just that which he wants to do. If he has
a mind to sing, he sings ; if he wants to dance, he dances ;
and is not ashamed to be merry and jolly."

" And he fights too, sometimes," remarked Riasantzeff.

" Yes, so he does. That is, when men don't understand
how to drink."

" And do you like fighting when you are drunk ? "
asked Novikoff.

44 No," replied Sanine, 44 I'd rather fight when I am
sober, but when I'm drunk I'm the most good-natured
person imaginable, for I have forgotten so much that is
mean and vile."

65

56 S A N I N E

" Everybody is not like that," said Riasantzeff.

" I'm sorry for them, that's all," replied Sanine.
" Besides, what others are like does not interest me in
the least."

" One can hardly say that," observed Novikoff.

" Why not, if it is the truth ? "

" A fine truth, indeed ! " exclaimed Lialia, shaking her
head.

" The finest I know, anyhow," replied Ivanoff for
Sanine.

Lida, who had been singing loudly, suddenly stopped,
looking vexed.

" They don't seem in any hurry," she said.

" Why should they hurry ? " replied Ivanoff. "It is
a great mistake to do anything in a hurry."

" And Sina, I suppose she is the heroine sans peur et
sans reproche ? " said Lida ironically.

Tanaroff's thoughts were too much for him at this
juncture. He burst out laughing, and then looked
thoroughly sheepish. Lida, her hands on her hips and
swaying gracefully to and fro, turned to look at him.

" I dare say they are enjoying themselves," she observed
with a shrug of the shoulders.

" Hark ! " said Riasantzeff, as the sound of firing
reached them.

" That was a shot," exclaimed Schafroff.

" What's the meaning of it ? " cried Lialia, as she
nervously clung to her lover's arm.

" Don't be frightened ! If it is a wolf, at this time of
year they are tame, and would never attack two people."
Thus Riasantzeff sought to reassure her, while secretly
annoyed at Yourii's childish freak.

" Tomfoolery ! " growled Schafroff, who was equally
vexed.

" They are coming, they are coming ! Don't worry ! "
said Lida contemptuously.

A sound of footsteps could now be heard, and soon
Sina and Yourii emerged from the darkness.
\ Yourii blew out the light and smiled uneasily, as he
was not sure of his reception. He was covered with

S A N I N E 57

yellow clay, and Sina's shoulder bore traces of this, for
she had rubbed against the side of the cavern.

" Well ? " asked Semenoff languidly.

" It was quite interesting in there," said Yourii half
apologetically. " Only the passage does not lead very
far. It has been filled up. We saw some rotten planks
lying about."

" Did you hear us fire ? " asked Sina, and her eyes
sparkled.

" My friends," shouted Ivanoff, interrupting, " we
have drunk all the beer, and our souls are abundantly
refreshed. Let us be going."

By the time that the boat reached a broader part of the
stream the moon had already risen. It was a strangely
calm, clear evening. Above and below, in the heaven
as in the river, the golden stars gleamed. It was as if
the boat was suspended between two fathomless spaces.
The dark woods at the edge of the stream had a look of
mystery. A nightingale sang, and all listened in silence,
not believing it to be a bird, but rather some joyous
dreamer in the gloom. Removing her large straw hat,
Sina Karsavina now began to sing a Russian popular
air, sweet and sad like all Russian songs. Her voice, a
high soprano, though not powerful, was sympathetic in
quality.

Ivanoff muttered, " That's sweet ! " and Sanine
exclaimed " Charming ! " When she had finished they
all clapped their hands and the sound was echoed strangely
in the dark woods on either side.

" Sing something else, Sinotschka ! " cried Lialia ; " or,
better still, recite one of your own poems."

" So you're a poetess, too ? " asked Ivanoff. " How
many gifts does the good God bestow upon his creatures ! "

" Is that a bad thing ? " asked Sina in confusion.

" No, it's a very good thing," replied Sanine.

" If a girl's got youth and good looks, what does she
want with poetry, I should like to know ? " observed
Ivanoff.

" Never mind ! Recite something, Sinotschka, do ! "
cried Lialia, amorous and tender,

58 S A N I N E

Sina smiled, and looked away self-consciously before
she began to recite in her clear, musical voice the following
lines :

Oh ! love, my own true love.

To thee Г 11 never tell it,

Never to thee Г 11 tell my burning love !

But I will close these amorous eyes,

And they shall guard my secret well.

Only by days of yearning is it known.

The calm blue nights, the golden stars,

The dreaming woods that whisper in the night,

These, yes, they know it, but are dumb ;

They will not show the mystery of my great love.

Once more there was great enthusiasm, and they all
loudly applauded Sina, not because her little poem was
a good one, but because it was expressive of their mood,
and because they were all longing for love and love's
delicious sorrow.

" О Night, О Day ! О lustrous eyes of Sina, I pray you
tell me that it is I, the happy man ! " cried Ivanoff
ecstatically in a deep bass voice which startled them all.

" Well, I can assure you that it is not you," replied
Semenoff.

" Ah ! woe is me ! " wailed Ivanoff ; and everybody
laughed.

" Are my verses bad ? " Sina asked Yourii.

He did not think that they had much originality, for
they reminded him of hundreds of similar effusions. But
Sina was so pretty and looked at him with those dark
eyes of hers in such a pleading way that he gravely
replied :

" I thought them quite charming and melodious."

Sina smiled, surprised that such praise could please her
so much.

" Ah ! you don't know my Sinotschka yet ! " said
Lialia, " she is all that is beautiful and melodious."

" You don't say so ! " exclaimed Ivanoff.

и Yes, indeed I do ! " persisted Lialia. " Her voice is
beautiful and melodious, and so are her poems ; she

S A N I N E 59

herself is a beauty ; her name, even, is beautiful and
melodious."

" Oh ! my goodness ! What more can you say than
that ! " cried Ivanoff. " But I am quite of your opinion."

At all these compliments Sina blushed with pleasure
and confusion.

" It is time to go home," said Lida abruptly. She did
not like to hear Sina praised, for she considered herself far
prettier, cleverer, and more interesting.

" Are you going to sing something ? " asked Sanine.

" No," she replied, " I am not in voice."

" It really is time to be going," observed Riasantzeff,
for he remembered that early next morning he must be
in the dissecting-room of the hospital. All the others
wished that they could have stayed for a while. On
their homeward way they were silent, feeling tired and
contented. As before, though unseen, the tall stems
of the grasses bent beneath the carriage-wheels, and the
dust soon settled on the white road again. The bare grey
fields looked vast and limitless in the faint light of the
moon.

VII

Three days afterwards, late in the evening, Lida came
home sad, tired, and heavy-hearted. On reaching her
room, she stood still, with hands clasped, and stared at
the floor. She suddenly realized, to her horror, that in
her relations with Sarudine she had gone too far. For
the first time since that strange moment of irreparable
weakness she perceived what a humiliating hold this
empty-headed officer had over her, inferior as he was to
herself in every way. She must now come if he called ;
she could no longer trifle with him as she liked, submitting
to his kisses or laughingly resisting them. Now, like a
slave, she must endure and obey.

How this had come about she could not comprehend.
As always, she had ruled him, had borne with his amorous
attentions ; all had been as agreeable, amusing, and
exciting, as heretofore. Then came a moment when her
whole frame seemed on fire and her brain clouded as by
a mist, annihilating all except the one mad desire to
plunge into the abyss. It was as if the earth gave way
beneath her feet ; she lost control of her limbs, conscious
only of two magnetic eyes that gazed boldly into hers.
Her whole being was thrilled and shaken with passion ;
she became the sacrifice of overwhelming lust ; and yet
she longed once more that such passionate experiences
might be repeated. At the very thought of it all Lida
trembled ; she raised her shoulders and hid her face
in her hands. With faltering steps she crossed the room
and opened the window. For a long while she gazed at
the moon that hung just above the garden, and in distant
foliage a nightingale sang. Grief oppressed her. She
felt strangely agitated by a sense of remorse and of
wounded pride to think that she had ruined her life for
a silly, shallow man, and that her false step had been
foolish, base, and, indeed, accidental. The future seemed
threatening ; but she sought to dissipate her fears by
obstinate bravado.

60

S A N I N E 61

" Well, I did it, and there's an end of it ! " she said to
herself, frowning, and striving to find some sort of grim
satisfaction from this hackneyed phrase. " What non-
sense it all is ! I wanted to do it and I did it ; and I
felt so happy — oh, so happy ! It would have been silly
not to enjoy myself when the moment came. I must
not think of it ; it can't be helped, now."

She languidly withdrew from the window and began
to undress, letting her clothes slip from her on to the
floor. " After all, one only lives once," she thought,
shivering at the touch of the cool night air on her bare
shoulders and arms. " What should I have gained by
waiting till I was lawfully married ? And of what good
would that have been to me ? It's all the same thing !
What is there to worry about ? "

All at once it seemed to her that in this hazard she had
got all that was best and most interesting ; and that now,
free as a bird an eventful life of happiness and pleasure
lay before her.

" I'll love if I will ; if I don't, then I won't ! " sang
Lida softly to herself, thinking meanwhile that her voice
was a much better one than Sina Karsavina's. " Oh !
it's all nonsense ! If I like, I'll give myself to the devil ! "
Thus she made sudden answer to her thoughts, hold-
ing her bare arms above her head so that her bosom
shook.

" Aren't you asleep yet, Lida ? " said Sanine's voice
outside the window.

Lida started back in alarm, and then, with a smile,
flung a shawl round her shoulders as she approached the
window.

" What a fright you gave me!" she said.

Sanine came nearer and leant with both elbows on the
window-sill. His eyes shone, and he smiled.

" There was no need for that ! " he muttered playfully.

Lida looked round.

" Without a shawl you looked much nicer," he said
in a low voice, impressively.

Lida looked at him in amazement, and instinctively
drew the shawl tighter round her.

62 S A N I N E

Sanine laughed. In confusion, she also leant upon the
window-sill, and now she felt his breath on her cheek.

" What a beauty you are ! " he said.

Lida glanced swiftly at him, fearful of what she thought
she could read in his face. With her whole body she felt
that her brother's eyes were fixed upon her, and she
turned away in horror. It was so terrible, so loathsome,
that her heart seemed frozen. Every man looked at her
just like that, and she liked it, but for her brother to do
so was incredible, impossible. Recovering herself, she
said, smiling :

" Yes, I know."

Sanine calmly watched her. The shawl and her chemise
had slipped when she leant on the window-sill, and partly
disclosed her tender bosom, white in the moonlight.

" Men always build up a Wall of China between them-
selves and happiness," he said in a low, trembling voice.
Lida was terrified.

" How do you mean ? " she asked faintly, her eyes still
fixed on the garden for fear of encountering his. To her
it seemed that something was going to happen of which
one hardly dared to think. Yet she had no doubt as to
what it was. It was awful, hideous, and yet interesting.
Her brain was on fire ; she could scarcely see, as with
horror and yet with curiosity she felt hot breath against
her cheek that stirred her hair and sent shivers through
her frame.

" Why, like this ! " replied Sanine, and his voice faltered.

As if by an electric shock, Lida started backwards and,
without knowing what she did, leant over the table and
blew out the light.

" It is bed-time," she said, and shut the window.

The light having been extinguished, it seemed less dark
out of doors, and Sanine's figure was clearly discernible,
his features appearing blueish in the moonlight. He
stood in the long, dew-drenched grass and smiled.

Lida left the window and sat down mechanically on
her bed. She trembled in every limb, unable to collect
her thoughts, and the sound of Sanine's footsteps on the
grass outside set her heart beating violently

S A N I N E 63

" Am I going mad ? " she asked herself in disgust.
" How awful ! A chance phrase like that to put such
thoughts into my head ! Is this erotomania ? Am I
really so bad, so depraved ? I must have sunk very low
to think of such a thing ! "

Burying her face m the pillows, she wept bitterly.

" Why am I weeping ? " she thought, not knowing
the reason for such tears, but feeling miserable, humiliated,
and unhappy. She wept because she had yielded herself
to Sarudine, because she was no longer a proud, pure
maiden, and because of that insulting, horrible look in
her brother's eyes. Formerly he would never have looked
at her like that. It was, so she thought, because she
had fallen.

But the bitterest, most harassing thought of all was
that she had now become a woman, and that as long as
she was young, strong, and good-looking her best powers
must be at the service of men and devoted to their grati-
fication, while the greater the enjoyment she procured
for them and for herself the more would they despise her.

" Why should they ? Who gave them this right ? Am
I not free just as much as they are ? " she asked herself,
as she gazed into the dreary darkness of her room. " Shall
I never get to know another, better life ? "

Her whole youthful physique imperiously told her that
she had a right to take from life all that was interesting,
pleasurable and necessary to her ; and that she had a
right to do whatever she chose with her strong, beautiful
body that belonged to her alone. But this idea was
lost in a tangle of confused and conflicting thoughts.

VIII

For some time past Yourii Svarogitsch had been working
at painting, of which he was fond, and to which he devoted
all his spare time. It had once been his dream to become
an artist, but want of money,. in the first place, and also
his political activity prevented this, so that now he
painted occasionally, as a pastime, without any special
end in view.

For this reason, indeed, and because he had no training,
art gave him no pleasant satisfaction ; it was a source
of chagrin and of disenchantment. Whenever his work
did not prove successful, he became irritable and de-
pressed ; if, on the other hand, it came out well, he fell
into a sort of gloomy reverie, conscious of the futility
of his efforts that brought him neither happiness nor
success. Yourii had taken a great fancy to Sina Karsavina.
He liked tall, well-formed young women with fine voices
and romantic eyes. He thought her beauty and purity
of soul were what attracted him, though really it was
because she was handsome and desirable. However, he
tried to persuade himself that, for him, her charm was a
spiritual, not a physical one, this being, as he thought,
a nobler, finer definition, though it was precisely this
maidenly purity and innocence of hers which fired his
blood and aroused desire. Ever since the evening when
he first met her, he had felt a vague yet vehement longing
to sully her innocence, a longing indeed that the presence
of any handsome woman provoked.

And now that his thoughts were set on a comely girl,
blithe, wholesome, and full of the joy of life, Yourii had an
idea that he would paint " Life." As most new ideas
were wont to do, this one stirred him to enthusiasm, and
on this occasion he believed that he would bring his task
to a successful end.

Having prepared a huge canvas, he set to work with
feverish haste, as if he dreaded delay. When he first
touched the canvas with colour, producing a harmonious

6*

S A N I N E 65

and pleasing effect, he felt a thrill of delight, and the picture
that was to be stood clearly before him with all its details.
As, however, the work progressed, so technical difficulties
became more numerous, and with these Yourii felt unable
to cope. All that in his imagination seemed luminous
and beautiful and strong, became thin and feeble on the
canvas. Details no longer fascinated him, but were
annoying and depressing. In fact, he ignored them and
began to paint in a broad, slap-dash style. Thus, instead
of a clear, powerful portrayal of life, the picture became
ever more plain of a tawdry, slovenly female. There was
nothing original or charming about such a dull stereotyped
piece of work, so he thought ; a veritable imitation of a
Moukh drawing, banal in idea as in execution ; and,
as usual, Yourii became sad and gloomy.

Had it not for some reason or other seemed shameful
to weep, he would have wept, hiding his face in the
pillow, and sobbing aloud. He longed to complain to
some one about something, but not about his own incom-
petence. Instead of this he gazed ruefully at the picture
thinking that life generally was tedious and sad and feeble,
containing nothing of interest to him, personally. It
horrified him to look forward to living, as he would have
to do, for many years in this little town.

" Why, it is simply death ! " thought Yourii, as his
brow grew cold as ice. Then he felt a desire to paint
" Death." Seizing a knife, he angrily began to scrape off
his picture of " Life." It vexed him that that which he
had wrought with such enthusiasm should disappear with
such difficulty. The colour did not come off easily ; the
knife slipped and twice cut the canvas. Then he found
that chalk would make no mark on the oil paint. This
greatly troubled him. With a brush he commenced to
sketch in his subject in ochre, and then painted slowly,
carelessly, in a spiritless, dejected way. His present work,
however, did not lose, but gained by such slipshod methods
and by the dull, heavy colour scheme. The original idea
of " Death " soon disappeared of itself ; and so Yourii pro-
ceeded to depict " Old Age "as a lean hag tottering along
a rough road in the dusk, The sun had sunk, and against

E

66 S A N I N E

the livid sky sombre crosses were seen en silhouette.
Beneath the weight of a heavy black coffin the woman's
bony shoulders were bent, and her expression was mournful
and despairing, as with one foot she touched the brink
of an open grave. It was a picture appalling in its misery
and gloom. At lunch-time they sent for Yourii, but he
did not go, and continued working. Later on, Novikoff
came to tell him something, but he neither listened nor
replied. Novikoff sighed, and sat down on the sofa. He
liked to be quiet and think matters over. He only came
to see Yourii because, at home, by himself, he was sad
and worried. Lida's refusal still distressed him, and he
could not be sure if he felt grieved or humiliated. As a
straightforward, indolent fellow, he had so far heard
nothing of the local gossip concerning Lida and Sarudine.
He was not jealous, but only sorrowful that the dream
which brought happiness so near to him had fled.

Novikoff thought that his life was a failure, but it
never occurred to him to end it, since to live on was futile.
On the contrary, now that his life had become a torture
to him, he considered that it was his duty to devote it
to others, putting his own happiness aside. Without
being able to account for it, he had a vague desire to
throw up everything and go to St. Petersburg where he
could renew his connection with " the party " and rush
headlong to death. This was a fine, lofty thought, so he
believed, and the knowledge that it was his lessened his
grief, and even gladdened him. He became grand in his
own eyes, crowned as with a shining aureole, and his sadly
reproachful attitude towards Lida almost moved him to
tears.

Then he suddenly felt bored. Yourii went on painting,
and gave him no attention whatever. Novikoff got up
lazily and approached the picture. It was still unfinished,
and for that reason produced the effect of a somewhat
powerful sketch. Yourii had got as far as he could go.
Novikoff thought it was wonderful, as with open mouth
he gazed in childish admiration at the artist.

" Well ? " said Yourii, stepping backwards.

Personally, he thought it the most interesting picture

S A N I N E 67

that he had ever seen, though certainly it had defects
both obvious and considerable. Why he was of this
opinion he could not tell, but if Novikoff had thought
the picture a bad one, he would have felt thoroughly hurt
and annoyed. However, Novikoff murmured ecstatically,

" Ve . . . ry fine indeed ! "

Yourii felt as if he were a genius despising his own work.
He sighed and flung down his brush which stained the
edge of the couch, and he moved away without looking
at the picture.

" Ah ! my friend ! " he exclaimed. He was on the
point of confessing to himself and to Novikoff the doubt
which destroyed his pleasure in succeeding, as he felt
that he could never do anything with what was now a
promising sketch. However, after a moment of reflection
he merely said :

" All that is of no use at all ! "

Novikoff thought that this was pose on his friend's part,
and mindful of his own bitter disappointment he inwardly
observed :

" That's true."

Then after a while he asked :

" How do you mean that it is of no use ? "

To this question Yourii could give no exact answer,
and he remained silent. Novikoff examined the picture
once more, and then lay down on the sofa.

14 1 read your article in the Krai" he said. " It was
pretty hot."

" The deuce take it ! " replied Yourii, angrily, yet
unable to account for his anger, as he remembered
Semenoff's words. " What good will it do ? It won't
stop executions and robberies and violence ; they will
go on just as before. Articles won't help matters. For
what purpose, pray ? To be read by two or three idiots !
Much good that is ! After all, what business is it of
mine ? And why dash one's brains out against a wall ? "

Passing before his eyes, Yourii seemed to see the early
years of his political activity ; the secret meetings,
propaganda, risks and reverses, his own enthusiasm and
Uh- profound apathy of those whom he was so eager

68 S A N I N E

to save. He walked up and down the room, gesticu-
lating.

" Then, it is not worth while doing anything," drawled
Novikoff, and, thinking of Sanine, he added,

" Egoists, that's all you are ! "

" No, it's not ! " replied Yourii vehemently, influenced
by his memories of the past and by the dusk that gave
a grey look to all things in the room.

" If one speaks of Humanity, of what good are all our
efforts in the cause of constitutions or of revolutions if one
cannot even approximately estimate what humanity
really requires ? Perhaps in this liberty of which we
dream lie the germs of future degeneracy, and man,
having realized his ideal, will go back, walking once more
on all fours ? Thus, all would have to be recommenced.
And if I care for nothing but myself, what then ? What
do I gain by it ? The most I could do would be to get
fame by my talents and achievements, intoxicated by the
respect of my inferiors, that is to say by the respect of
those whom I do not esteem and whose veneration ought
to be valueless to me. And then ? To go on living,
living, until the grave — nothing after that ! And the
crown of laurels would fit my skull so closely, that I
should soon find it irksome ! "

" Always about himself ! " muttered Novikoff, mock-
ingly.

Yourii did not hear him, being morbidly pleased with
his own eloquence. There was a beautiful gloom about
his utterances, so he thought ; they seemed to ennoble
him, to heighten his sense of self-respect.

" At the worst, I should become a genius misjudged,
a ridiculous dreamer, a theme for humorous tales, a
foolish individual, of no use to anybody ! "

" Aha ! " cried Novikoff, as he rose from the couch,
" Of no use to anybody. You admit that yourself,
then ? "

" How absurd you are ! " exclaimed Yourii, " do you
really think that I don't know for what to live and in
what to believe ? Possibly I should gladly submit to
crucifixion if I believed that my death could save the

S A N I N E 69

world. But I don't believe this ; and whatever I did
would never alter the course of history ; moreover, my
help would be so slight, so insignificant, that the world
would not have suffered a jot if I had never existed. Yet,
for the sake of such infinitesimal help, I am obliged to live,
and suffer, and sorrowfully wait for death."

Yourii did not perceive that he was now talking of
something quite different, replying, not to Novikoff, but
to his own strange, depressing thoughts. Suddenly he
remembered Semenoff, and stopped short. A cold shiver
ran down his spine.

" The fact is, I dread the inevitable," he said in a low
tone, as he looked stolidly at the darkening window.
4 ' It is natural, I know, and that I can do nothing to avoid
it, but yet it is awful — hideous ! "

Novikoff, though inwardly horrified at the truth of
such a statement, replied :

" Death is a necessary physiological phenomenon."

M What a fool ! " thought Yourii, as he irritably ex-
claimed,

" Good gracious me ! What does it matter if our death
is necessary to anyone else or not ? "

" How about your crucifixion ? "

" That is a different thing," replied Yourii, with some
hesitation.

" You are contradicting yourself," observed Novikoff
in a slightly patronising tone.

This greatly annoyed Yourii. Thrusting his fingers
through his unkempt black hair, he vehemently retorted :

" I never contradict myself. It stands to reason that
if, of my own free will, I choose to die "

" It's all the same," continued Novikoff obdurately,
in the same tone. " All of you want fireworks, applause,
and the rest of it. It's nothing else but egoism ! "

" What if it is ? That won't alter matters."

The discussion became confused. Yourii felt that he
had not meant to say that, but the thread escaped him
which a moment before had seemed so clear and tense.
He paced up and down the room, endeavouring to over-
come his vexation, as he said to himself.

70 S A N I N E

" Sometimes one is not in the humour. At other times
one can speak as clearly as if the words were set before
one's eyes. Sometimes I seem to be tongue-tied, and I
express myself clumsily. Yes, that often happens."

They were both silent. Yourii at last stopped by the
window and took up his cap.

" Let us go for a stroll," he said.

" All right," Novikoff readily assented, secretly hoping,
while joyful yet distressed, that he might meet Lida
Sanine.

IX

They walked up and down the boulevard once or twice,
meeting no one they knew, and they listened to the band
which was playing as usual in the garden. It was a very
poor performance ; the music being harsh and discordant,
but at a distance it sounded languorous and sad. They
only met men and women joking and laughing, whose
noisy merriment seemed at variance with the mournful
music and the dreary evening. It irritated Yourii. At
the end of the boulevard Sanine joined them, greeting
them effusively. Yourii did not like him, so conversation
was scarcely brisk. Sanine kept on laughing at everybody
he saw. Later on they met Ivanoff, and Sanine went off
with him.

" Where are you going ? " asked Novikoff.

" To treat my friend," replied Ivanoff, producing a
bottle of vodka which he showed to them in triumph.

Sanine laughed.

To Yourii this vodka and laughter seemed singularly
coarse and vulgar. He turned away in disgust. Sanine
observed this, but said nothing.

" God, I thank Thee, that I am not as other men,"
exclaimed Ivanoff mockingly.

Yourii reddened. "A stale joke like that into the
bargain ! " he thought, as, shrugging his shoulders con-
temptuously, he walked away.

" Novikoff, guileless Pharisee, come along with us ! "
cried Ivanoff.

" What for ? "

" To have a drink."

Novikoff glanced round him ruefully, but Lida was not
to be seen.

" Lida is at home, doing penance for her sins ! " laughed
Sanine.

" What nonsense ! " exclaimed Novikoff testily. " I've
got to see a patient ..."

" Who is quite able to die without your help," said

71

72 S A N I N E

Ivanoff. " For that matter, we can polish off the vodka
without your help, either."

" Suppose I get drunk ? " thought Novikoff. " All
right ! I'll come," he said.

As they went away, Yourii could hear at a distance
Ivanoff's gruff bass voice and Sanine's careless, merry
laugh. He walked once more along the boulevard.
Girlish voices called to him through the dusk. Sina
Karsavina and the school-mistress Dubova were sitting
on a bench. It was now getting dark, and their figures
were hardly discernible. They wore dark dresses, were
without hats, and carried books in their hands. Yourii
hastened to join them.

" Where have you been ? " he asked.

" At the library," replied Sina.

Without speaking, her companion moved to make room
for Yourii who would have preferred to sit next to Sina,
but, being shy, he took a seat beside the ugly school-
teacher, Dubova.

и Why do you look so utterly miserable ? " asked
Dubova, pursing up her thin, dry lips, as was her
wont.

" What makes you think that I am miserable ? On
the contrary I am in excellent spirits. Somewhat bored,
perhaps."

" Ah ! that's because you've nothing to do," said
Dubova.

" Have you so much to do, then ? "

" At any rate, I have not the time to weep."

" I am not weeping, am I ? "

" Well," said Dubova, teasing him, " you're in the
sulks."

" My life," replied Yourii, " has caused me to forget
what laughing is."

This was said in such a bitter tone that there was a
sudden silence.

" A friend of mine told me that my life is most in-
structive," said Yourii after a pause, though no one had
ever made such a statement to him.

" In what way ? " asked Sina cautiously.

S A N I N E 73

" As an example of how not to live."

" Oh ! do tell us all about it. Perhaps we might profit
by the lesson," said Dubova.

Yourii considered that his life was an absolute failure,
and that he himself was the most luckless and wretched
of men. In such a belief there lay a certain mournful
solace, and it was pleasant to him to complain about his
own life and mankind in general. To men he never spoke
of such things, feeling instinctively that they would not
believe him, but to women, especially if they were young
and pretty, he was ever ready to talk at length about
himself. He was good-looking, and talked well, so women
always felt for him affectionate pity. On this occasion
also, if jocular at the outset, Yourii relapsed into his usual
tone ; discoursing at great length about his own life.
From his own description he appeared to be a man of
extraordinary powers, cramped and crushed by the force
of circumstances, misunderstood by his party, and one
who by unlucky chance and human folly was doomed to
be just a mere student in exile instead of a leader of the
people ! Like all extremely self-satisfied persons Yourii
entirely failed to perceive that all this in no way proved
his extraordinary powers, and that men of genius were
surrounded by just such associates, and hampered by
just such misfortunes. It seemed to him that he alone
was the victim of an inexorable destiny. As he talked
well and with great vivacity and point, what he said
sounded true enough, so that girls believed him, pitied
him, and sympathized with him in his misfortunes. The
band was still playing its sad, discordant tunes, the evening
was gloomy and depressing, and they all three felt in a
melancholy mood. When Yourii ceased talking, Dubova,
meditating on her own dull, monotonous existence and
vanishing youth without joy or love, asked him in a low
voice,

" Tell me, Yourii, has the thought of suicide never
crossed your mind ? "

" Why do you ask me that ? "

" Oh ! well, I don't know . . ."

They said no more,

74 S A N I N E

" You are on the committee, aren't you ? " asked Sina
eagerly.

" Yes," replied Yourii curtly, as if unwilling to admit
the fact, but in reality pleased to do so, because he
thought that to this charming girl he would appear weirdly
interesting. He then walked back with them to their
house, and on the way they laughed and talked much.
All depression had vanished.

" How nice he is ! " said Sina, when Yourii had gone.

Dubova shook her finger threateningly :

" Mind that you don't fall in love with him."

" What an idea ! " laughed Sina, though secretly afraid.

Yourii reached home in a brighter, more hopeful mood.
He went to look at the picture that he had begun. It
produced no impression upon him, and he lay down con-
tentedly to sleep. That night in dreams he had visions
of fair women, radiant and alluring.

X

On the following evening Yourii went to the same spot
where he had met Sina Karsavina and her companion.
Throughout the day he had thought with pleasure of his
talk with them on the previous evening, and he hoped
to meet them again, discuss the same subjects, and per-
ceive the same look of sympathy and tenderness in Sina's
gentle eyes.

It was a calm evening. The air was warm, and a slight
dust floated above the streets. Except for one or two
passers-by, the boulevard was absolutely deserted.
Yourii walked slowly along, his eyes fixed on the ground.

" How boring ! " he thought. " What am I to do ? "

Suddenly Schafroff, the student, walking briskly, and,
swinging his arm, approached him with a friendly smile
on his face.

" Why are you dawdling along like this, eh ? "he asked,
stopping short, and giving Yourii a big, strong hand.

" Oh ! I am bored to death, and there's nothing to do.
Where are you going ? " asked Yourii, in a languid,
patronizing tone. He always spoke thus to Schafroff,
because, as a former member of the revolutionary
committee he looked upon the lad as just an amateur
revolutionist. Schafroff smiled as one thoroughly
pleased with himself.

" We have got a lecture to-day," he said, pointing to
a packet of thin pamphlets in coloured wrappers. Yourii
mechanically took one, and, opening it, read the long, dry
preface to a popular Socialistic address, once well known
to him, but which he had quite forgotten.

" Where is the lecture to be given ? " he asked with
the same slightly contemptuous smile as he handed back
the pamphlet.

" At the school," replied Schafroff, mentioning the one
at which Sina Karsavina and. Dubova were teachers.
Yourii remembered that Lialia had once told him about
these lectures, but he had paid no attention.

76

76 S A N I N E

" May I come with you ? " he asked.

" Why, of course 1 " replied Schafroff, eager to assent
to this proposal. He looked upon Yourii as a real
agitator, and, over-estimating his political abilities, felt
a reverence for him that bordered on affection.

" I am greatly interested in such matters." Yourii felt
it necessary to say this, being all the while glad that he
had now got an engagement for the evening, and that he
would see Sina again.

" Why, yes, of course," said Schafroff.

" Then, let us go."

They walked quickly along the boulevard and crossed
the bridge, from each side of which came humid airs, and
they soon reached the school where people had already
assembled.

In the large, dark room with its rows of benches and
desks the white cloth used for the magic lantern was
dimly visible, and there were sounds of suppressed
laughter. At the window, through which could be seen
the dark green boughs of trees in twilight, stood Lialia
and Dubova. They gleefully greeted Yourii.

" I am so glad that you have come ! " said Lialia,

Dubova shook him vigorously by the hand.

" Why don't you begin ? " asked Yourii, as he furtively
glanced round, hoping to see Sina.

" So Sinaida Pavlovna doesn't attend these lectures ? "
he observed with evident disappointment.

At that moment a lucifer-match flashed close to the
lecturer's desk on the platform, illuminating Sina's features.
The light shone upon her pretty fresh face ; she was
smiling gaily.

" Don't I attend these lectures ? " she exclaimed, as,
bending down to Yourii, she held out her hand. He
gladly grasped it without speaking, and leaning lightly
on him she sprang from the platform. He felt her sweet,
wholesome breath close to his face.

" It is time to begin," said Schafroff, who came in from
the adjoining room.

The school attendant with heavy tread walked round
the room, lighting one by one the large lamps which soon

S A N I N E 77

shed a bright light. Schafroff opened the door leading
to the passage, and said in a loud voice : " This way,
please ! "

Shyly at first, and then in noisy haste, the people
entered the lecture-room. Yourii scrutinized them closely ;
his keen interest as a propagandist was roused. There
were old folk, young men, and children. No one sat in
the front row ; but, later on, it was filled by several ladies
whom Yourii did not know ; by the fat school-inspector ;
and by masters and mistresses of the elementary school
for boys and girls. The rest of the room was full of men
in caftans and long coats, soldiers, peasants, women, and
a great many children in coloured shirts and frocks.

Yourii sat beside Sina at a desk and listened while
Schafroff read, calmly, but badly, a paper on universal
suffrage. He had a hard, monotonous voice and every-
thing he read sounded like a column of statistics. Yet
everybody listened attentively with the exception of the
intellectual people in the front row, who soon grew restless
and began whispering to each other. This annoyed
Yourii, and he felt sorry that Schafroff should read so
badly. The latter was obviously tired, so Yourii said
to Sina :

" Suppose I finish reading it for him ? What do you
say ? "

Sina shot a kindly glance at him from beneath her
drooping eye-lashes.

" Oh ! yes, do read ! I wish you would."

" Do you think it will matter ? " he whispered, smiling
at her as if she were his accomplice.

" Matter ? Not in the least. Everybody will be
delighted."

During a pause, she suggested this to Schafroff, who
being tired and aware how badly he had read, accepted
with pleasure.

" Of course ! By all means ! " he exclaimed, as usual,
giving up his place to Yourii.

Yourii was fond of reading, and read excellently.
Without looking at anyone, he walked to the desk on
the platform and began in a loud, well modulated voice.

78 S A N I N E

Twice he looked down at Sina, and each time he en-
countered her bright, expressive glance. He smiled at her
in pleasure and confusion, and then, turning to his book,
began to read louder and with greater emphasis. To him
it seemed as if he were doing a most excellent and in-
teresting thing. When he had finished, there was some
applause in the front seats. Yourii bowed gravely, and
as he left the platform he smiled at Sina as much as to
say, " I did that for your sake." There was some mur-
muring, and a noise of chairs being pushed back as the
listeners rose to go. Yourii was introduced to two ladies
who complimented him on his performance. Then the
lamps were put out and the room became dark.

" Thank you very much," said Schafroff as he warmly
shook Yourii's hand. " I wish that we always had some
one to read to us like that."

Lecturing was his business, and so he felt obliged to
Yourii as if the latter had done him a personal service,
although he thanked him in the name of the people.
Schafroff laid stress on the word " people." " So little
is done here for the people," he said, as if he were telling
Yourii a great secret, " and if anything is done, it is in a
half-hearted, careless way. It is most extraordinary.
To amuse a parcel of bored gentlefolk dozens of first-rate
actors, singers and lecturers are engaged, but for the people
a lecturer like myself is quite good enough." Schafroff
smiled at his own bland irony. " Everybody's quite
satisfied. What more do they want ? "

" That is quite true," said Dubova. " Whole columns
in the newspapers are devoted to actors and their won-
derful performances ; it is positively revolting ; whereas
here . . ."

" Yet what a good work we're doing ! " said Schafroff,
with conviction, as he gathered his pamphlets together.

" Sancta Simplicitas ! " ejaculated Yourii inwardly.

Sina's presence, however, and his own success inclined
him to be tolerant. Indeed Schafroff's utter ingenuous-
ness almost touched him.

" Where shall we go now ? ^ asked Dubova, as they
came out into the street.

S A N I N E 79

Outside it was not nearly so dark as in the lecture-
room, and in the sky a few stars shone.

" Schafroff and I are going to the Ratoffs," said Dubova.
" Will you take Sina home ? "

" With pleasure," said Yourii.

Sina lodged with Dubova in a small house that stood
in a large, barren-looking garden. All the way thither she
and Yourii talked of the lecture and its impression upon
them, so that Yourii felt more and more convinced that
he had done a good and great thing. As they reached
the house, Sina said :

" Won't you come in for a moment ? " Yourii gladly
accepted. She opened the gate, and they crossed a
little grass-grown courtyard beyond which lay the
garden.

" Go into the garden, will you ? " said Sina, laughing.
" I would ask you to come indoors, but I am afraid things
are rather untidy, as I have been out ever since the
morning."

She went in, and Yourii sauntered towards the green,
fragrant garden. He did not go far, but stopped to look
round with intense curiosity at the dark windows of the
house, as if something were happening there, something
strangely beautiful and mysterious. Sina appeared in
the doorway. Yourii hardly recognized her. She had
changed her black dress, and now wore the costume of
Little Russia, a thin bodice cut low, with short sleeves
and a blue skirt.

" Here I am ! " she said, smiling.

" So I see ! " replied Yourii with a certain mysterious
emphasis that she alone could appreciate.

She smiled once more, and looked sideways, as they
walked along the garden-path between long grasses and
branches of lilac. The trees were small ones, most of
them being cherry-trees, whose young leaves had an
odour of resinous gum. Behind the garden there was a
meadow where wild flowers bloomed amid the long grass.

" Let us sit down here," said Sina.

They sat down by the fence that was falling to pieces,
and looked across the meadow at the dying sunset.

80 S A N I N E

Yourii caught hold of a slender lilac-branch, from which
fell a shower of dew.

" Shall I sing something to you ? " asked Sina.

" Oh ! yes, do ! " replied Yourii.

As on the evening of the picnic, Sina breathed deeply,
and her comely bust was clearly defined beneath the thin
bodice, as she began to sing, " Oh, beauteous Star of Love."
Pure and passionate, her notes floated out on the evening
air. Yourii remained motionless, gazing at her, with
bated breath. She felt that his eyes were upon her, and,
closing her own, she sang on with greater sweetness and
fervour. There was silence everywhere, as if all things
were listening ; Yourii thought of the mysterious hush
of woodlands in spring when a nightingale sings.

As Sina ceased on a clear, high note, the silence seemed
yet more intense. The sunset light had faded ; the sky
grew dark and more vast. The leaves and the grass
quivered imperceptibly ; across the meadow and through
the garden there passed a soft, perfumed breeze ; faint
as a sigh. Sina's eyes, shining in the gloom, turned to
Yourii.

" Why so silent ? " she asked.

" It is almost too delightful here ! " he murmured, and
again he grasped a dewy branch of lilac.

" Yes, it is very beautiful," replied Sina dreamily.

" In fact it is beautiful to be alive," she added.

A thought, vague and disquieting, crossed Yourii's
mind, but it vanished without taking any clear shape.
Some one loudly whistled twice on the other side of the
meadow, and then came silence, as before.

" Do you like Schafroff ? " asked Sina suddenly, being
inwardly amused at so apparently inept a question.

Yourii felt a momentary pang of jealousy, but with a
slight effort he replied gravely. " He's a good fellow."

" How devoted he is to his work ! "

Yourii was silent.

A faint grey mist rose from the meadow and the grass
grew paler in the dew.

" It is getting damp," said Sina, shivering slightly.

Yourii unconsciously looked at her round, soft shoulders

S A N I N E 81

feeling instantly confused, and she, aware of his glance
became confused also, although it was pleasant to her.

" Let us go."

Regretfully they returned along the narrow garden-
path, each brushing lightly against the other at times as
they walked. All around seemed dark and deserted, and
Yourii fancied that now the garden's own life was about
to begin, a life mysterious and to all unknown. Yonder,
amid the trees and across the dew-laden grass strange
shadows soon would steal, as the dusk deepened, and
voices whispered in green, silent places. This he said to
Sina, and her dark eyes wistfully peered into the gloom.
If, so Yourii thought, she were suddenly to fling all her
clothing aside, and rush all white and nude and joyous
over the dewy grass towards the dim thicket, this would
not be in the least strange, but beautiful and natural ;
nor would it disturb the life of the green, dark garden, but
would make this more complete. This, too, he had a
wish to tell her, but he dared not do so, and spoke instead
of the people and of lectures. But their conversation
flagged, and then ceased, as if they were only wasting
words. Thus they reached the gateway in silence,
smiling to themselves, brushing the dew from the branches
with their shoulders. Everything seemed as calm and
happy and pensive as they were themselves. As before,
the courtyard was dark and solitary, but the outer gate
was open, and a sound of hasty footsteps in the house
could be heard, and of the opening and shutting of drawers.

" Olga has come back," said Sina.

" Oh ! Sina, is that you ? " asked Dubova from within,
and the tone of her voice suggested some sinister
occurrence. Pale and agitated, she appeared in the
doorway.

" Where were you ? I have been looking for you.
Semenoff is dying ! " she said breathlessly.

" What ! " exclaimed Sina, horror-struck.

" Yes, he is dying. He broke a blood-vessel. Anatole
Pavlovitch says that he's done for. They have taken
him to the hospital. It was dreadfully sudden. There
we were, at the Ratoffs', having tea, and he was so merry,

F

82 S A N I N E

arguing with Novikoff about something or other. Then
he suddenly began to cough, stood up, and staggered, and
the blood spurted out, on to the table-cloth, and into a
little saucer of jam ... all black, and clotted. ..."

" Does he know it himself ? " asked Yourii with grim
interest. He instantly remembered the moonlit night,
the sombre shadow, and the weak, broken voice, saying,
" You will be alive, and you'll pass my grave, and stop,
whilst I . . ."

" Yes, he seems to know," replied Dubova, with a
nervous movement of the hands. " He looked at us all,
and asked ' What is it ? ' And then he shook from head
to foot and said, » Already ! ■ . . . Oh ! isn't it awful ? "

" It's too shocking ! "

All were silent.

It was now quite dark, yet, though the sky was clear,
to them it seemed suddenly to have grown gloomy
and sad.

" Death is a horrible thing ! " said Yourii, turning
pale.

Dubova sighed, and gazed into vacancy. Sina's chin
trembled, and she smiled helplessly. She could not feel
so shocked as the others ; young as she was, and full of
life, she could not fix her thoughts on death. To her it
was incredible, inconceivable that on a beautiful summer
evening, radiantly pleasant such as this, some one should
have to suffer and to die. It was natural, of course, but,
for some reason or other, to her it seemed wrong. She
was ashamed to have such a feeling, and strove to suppress
it, endeavouring to appear sympathetic, an effort which
made her distress seem greater than that of her com-
panions.

" Oh ! poor fellow ! ... is he really . . . ? "

Sina wanted to ask : " Is he really going to die very
soon ? " but the words stuck in her throat, and she plied
Dubova with fatuous and incoherent questions.

" Anatole Pavlovitch says that he will die to-night or
to-morrow morning," replied Dubova, in a dull voice.

" Shall we go to him ? " whispered Sina. " Or do you
think that we had better not ? I don't know "

S A N I N E 83

This was the question uppermost in the minds of them
all. Should they go and see Semenoff die ? Was it a
right or wrong thing to do ? They all wanted to go, and
yet were fearful of what they should see. Yourii shrugged
his shoulders.

" Let us go," he said. " Very likely they won't admit
us, and perhaps, too "

44 Perhaps he might wish to see some one," added
Dubova, as if relieved.

44 Come on ! We'll go ! " said Sina with decision.

44 Schafroff and Novikoff are there," added Dubova,
as if to justify herself.

Sina ran indoors to fetch her hat and coat,- and then
they went sadly through the town to the large, grey, three-
storied building, the hospital where Semenoff lay dying.

The long, vaulted passages were dark, and smelt strongly
of iodoform and carbolic. As they passed the section
for the insane, they heard a strident, angry voice, but
no one was visible. They felt scared, and anxiously
hastened towards a dark little window. An old, grey-
haired peasant, with a long white beard and wearing a
large apron came clattering along the passage in his
heavy top-boots to meet them.

44 Who is it that you wish to see ? " he asked, stopping
short. m

44 A student has been brought here — Semenoff — to-day ! "
stammered Dubova.

44 No. 6, please, upstairs," said the attendant, and passed
on. They could hear him spit noisily on the flooring and
then wipe it with his foot. Upstairs it was brighter and
cleaner ; and the ceiling was not vaulted. A door with
44 Doctors' Room " inscribed on it stood ajar. A lamp
was burning in this room where a jingling of bottles and
glasses could be heard. Yourii looked inside, and called
out. The jingling ceased, and Riasantzeff appeared,
looking fresh and hearty, as usual.

44 Ah ! " he exclaimed in a cheery voice, being evidently
accustomed to events such as that which saddened his
visitors. 44 1 am on duty to-day. How do you do,
ladies ? " Yet, frowning suddenly, he addec} with grave

84 S A N I N E

significance, " He seems to be still unconscious. Let us
go to him. Novikoff and the others are there."

As they walked in single file along the clean, bare
passage, past big white doors with black numbers on
them, Riasantzeff said :

" A priest has been sent for. It's astonishing how
quickly the end came. I was amazed. But latterly he
caught cold, you know, and that was what did it. Here
we are."

Riasantzeff opened a white door and went in, the
others following in awkward fashion as they pushed
against each other on the threshold.

The room was clean and spacious. Four of the six
beds in it were empty, each one having its coarse grey
coverlet folded neatly, and strangely suggestive of a coffin.
On the fifth bed sat a little wizened old man in a dressing-
gown, who glanced timidly at the newcomers ; and on
the sixth bed, beneath a similar coarse coverlet, lay
Semenoff. At his side, in a bent posture, sat Novikoff,
while Ivanoff and Schafroff stood by the window. To
all of them it seemed odd and painful to shake hands in
the presence of the dying man, yet not to do so seemed
equally embarrassing, as though by such omission they
hinted that death was near. Some greeted each other,
and some refrained, while all stood still gazing with grim
curiosity at Semenoff.

He breathed slowly and with difficulty. How different
he looked from the Semenoff they knew ! Indeed, he
hardly seemed to be alive. Though his features and his
limbs were the same, they now appeared strangely rigid
and dreadful to behold. That which naturally gave life
and movement to the bodies of other human beings no
longer seemed to exist in his. Something horrible was
being swiftly, secretly accomplished within his motionless
frame, an important work that could not be postponed.
All that remained to him of life was, as it were, concen-
trated upon this work, observing it with keen, inexplicable
interest.

The lamp hanging from the ceiling shone clearly upoi
the dying man's lifeless visage. All standing there gaze(

S A N I N E 85

upon it, holding their breath as if fearing to disturb
something infinitely solemn ; and in such silence the
laboured, sibilant breathing of the patient sounded terribly-
distinct.

The door opened, and with short, senile steps a fat little
priest entered, accompanied by his psalm-singer, a dark,
gaunt man. With these came Sanine. The priest,
coughing slightly, bowed to the doctors and to all present,
who acknowledged his greeting with excessive politeness,
and then remained perfectly silent as before. Without
noticing anybody, Sanine took up his position by the
window, eyeing Semenoff and the others with great
curiosity as he sought to discern what the patient and
those about him actually felt and thought. Semenoff
remained motionless, breathing just as before.

" He is unconscious, is he ? " asked the priest gently,
without addressing anyone in particular.

" Yes," replied Novikoff, hastily.

Sanine murmured something unintelligible. The priest
looked questioningly at him, but, as Sanine remained
silent, he turned away, smoothed his hair back, donned
his stole and in high-pitched, unctuous tones began to
chant the prayers for the dying.

The psalm-singer had a bass voice, hoarse and disagree-
able, so that the vocal contrast was a painfully discordant
one as the sound of this chanting rose to the lofty ceiling.
No sooner had it commenced than the eyes of all were
fixed in terror upon the dying man. Novikoff, standing
nearest to him, thought that Semenoff's eye-lids moved
slightly, as if the sightless eyeballs had been turned in
the direction of the chanting. To the others, however,
Semenoff appeared as strangely motionless as before.

At the first notes Sina began to cry, gently but per-
sistently, letting the tears course down her youthful,
pretty face. All the others looked at her, and Dubova in
her turn began to weep. To the men's eyes tears also
rose, which by clenching their teeth they strove to keep
back. Every time the chanting grew louder, the girls
wept more freely. Sanine frowned, and shrugged his
shoulders irritably, thinking how intolerable to Semenoff,

86 S A N I N E

if he heard it, such wailing must be when to healthy
normal men it was so utterly depressing.

" Not so loud !." he said to the priest irritably.

The latter amiably bent forward to hear this remark,
and, when he understood it, he frowned and only sang
louder. His companion glared at Sanine and the others
all looked at him as well, in fear and astonishment, as if
he had said something offensive. Sanine showed his
annoyance by a gesture, but said nothing.

When the chanting ceased, and the priest had wrapped
up the crucifix in his stole, the suspense was more painful
than ever. Semenoff lay there as rigid, as motionless as
before. Suddenly the same thought, dreadful but
irresistible, came into the minds of all. If only it could
all end quickly ! If only Semenoff would die ! In fear
and shame they sought to suppress this wish, exchanging
timid glances.

" If only this were all over ! " said Sanine in an under-
tone. " Ghastly, isn't it ? "

" Yes ! " replied Ivanoff.

They spoke almost in whispers, and it was plain that
Semenoff could not hear them, but yet all the others
looked shocked.

Schafroff was about to say something, but at that
moment a new sound, indescribably plaintive, echoed
through the room, sending a shiver through all.

" Ее — ее ее ! " moaned Semenoff.

And, as if he had got that mode of expression which
he wanted, he continued to give out this long-drawn note,
only interrupted by his laboured, hoarse breathing.

At first the others could not conceive what had happened
to him, but soon Sina and Dubova and Novikoff began
to weep. Slowly and solemnly the priest resumed his
chanting. His fat good-tempered face showed evident
sympathy and emotion. A few minutes passed. Suddenly
Semenoff ceased moaning.

" It is all over," murmured the priest.

Then slowly, and with much effort, Semenoff moved
his tightly-glued lips, and his face became contracted as
if by a smile. The onlookers heard his hollow, weird voice

S A N I N E 87

that, issuing from the depth of his chest, sounded as if it
came through a coffin-lid.

" Silly old fool ! " he said, looking hard at the priest.
His whole body trembled, his eyes rolled madly in their
sockets, and he stretched himself at full length.

They had all heard these words, but no one moved ;
and for a moment the sorrowful expression vanished
from the priest's fat, moist face. He looked about him
anxiously, but encountered no one's glance. Only
Sanine smiled.

Semenoff again moved his lips, yet no sound escaped from
them, while one side drooped of his thin, fair moustache.
Once more he stretched his limbs, and became longer
and more terrible. There was no sound, nor the slightest
movement whatever. Nobody wept now. The approach
of death had been more grievous, more appalling than its
actual advent ; and it seemed strange that so harrowing
a scene should have ended so simply and swiftly. For
a few moments they stood beside the bed and looked at
the dead, peaked features, as if they expected something
else to happen. Wishful to rouse within themselves a
sense of horror and pity, they watched Novikoff intently
as he closed the dead man's eyes and crossed his hands
on his breast. Then they went out quietly and cautiously.
In the passages lamps were now lighted, and all seemed so
familiar and simple that every one breathed more freely.
The priest went first, tripping along with short steps.
Desiring to say a few words of consolation to the young
people, he sighed, and then began softly :

" Dear, dear ! It is very sad. Such a young man, too.
Alas ! it is plain that he died unrepentant. But God is
merciful, you know "

" Yes, yes, of course," replied Schafroff, who walked
next to him and wished to be polite.

" Does his family know ? " asked the priest.

14 1 really can't tell you," said Schafroff.

They all looked at each other in astonishment, as it
seemed odd and not altogether decent to be unable to
say who Semenoff' s people were.

" His sister is at the high school, I believe," observed Sina.

88 S Л N I N E

44 Ah ! I see ! Well, good-bye ! " said the priest,
slightly raising his hat with his plump fingers.

" Good-bye ! " they replied in unison.

On reaching the street, they sighed, as if relieved.

" Where shall we go now ? " asked Schafroff.

After brief hesitation, they all took leave of each other,
and went their different ways.

XI

When Semenoff saw the blood, and felt the awful void
around him and within him ; when they lifted him up,
carried him away, laid him down, and did all for him
that throughout his life he had been in the habit of doing,
then he knew that he was going to die, and wondered
why he felt not the least fear of death.

Dubova had spoken of his terror because she herself
was terrified, assuming that, if the healthy dreaded
death, the dying must dread it far more. His pallor
and his wild look, the result of loss of blood and weak-
ness, she took to be an expression of fear. But, in reality
this was not so. At all times, and especially since he
knew that he had got consumption, Semenoff had dreaded
death. At the outset of his malady, he was in a state of
abject terror, much as that of a condemned man for
whom hope of a reprieve there was none. It almost
seemed to him as if from that moment the world no
longer existed ; all in it that formerly he found fair,
and pleasant, and gay had vanished. All around him
was dying, dying, and every moment, every second,
might bring about something fearful, unendurable,
hideous as a black, yawning abyss. It was as an abyss,
huge, fathomless, and sombre as night, that Semenoff
imagined death. Wherever he went, whatever he did,
this black gulf was ever before him ; in its impenetrable
gloom all sounds, all colours, all emotions were lost.
Such a state of mind was appalling, yet it did not last
long ; and, as the days went by, as Semenoff approached
death, the more remote and vague and incomprehensible
did it seem to him.

Everything around him, sounds, colours, and emotions,
now once more regained their former value for him.
The sun shone as brightly as ever ; folk went about
their business as usual, and Semenoff himself had
important things, as also trivial ones, to do. Just as
before, he rose in the morning, washed with scrupulous

89

90 S A N I N E

care, and ate his midday meal, finding food pleasant or
unpleasant to his taste. As before, the sun and the
moon were a joy to him, and rain or damp an annoyance ;
as before, he played billiards in the evening with Novikoff
and others ; as before, he read books, some being inter-
esting, and some both foolish and dull. That all things
remained unchanged was irritating, even painful to him
at first. Nature, his environment, and he himself, all
were the same ; and he strove to alter this by compelling
people to be interested in him and in his death, to com-
prehend his appalling position, to realize that all was at
an end. When, however, he told his acquaintances of
this, he perceived that he ought not to have done so.
They appeared astonished at first, and then sceptical,
professing to doubt the accuracy of the doctor's diagnosis.
Finally, they endeavoured to banish the unpleasant
impression by abruptly changing the subject, and
Semenoff found himself talking with them about all sorts
of things, but never about death.

Then he sought to live in seclusion, to become absorbed
in himself, and in solitude to suffer, having full, stead-
fast consciousness of his impending doom. Yet, as in
his life and his daily surroundings, all remained the same
as formerly, it seemed absurd to imagine that it could be
otherwise, or that he, Semenoff, would no longer exist
as at the present. The thought of death, which at first
had made so deep a wound, grew less poignant ; the
soul oppressed found freedom. Moments of complete
forgetfulness became more and more frequent, and life
once again lay before him, rich in colour, in movement,
in sound.

It was only at night-time, when alone, that he was
haunted by the sense of a black abyss. After he had
put out the lamp, something devoid of form or features
rose up slowly above him in the gloom, and whispered,
" Sh . . . sh . . . sh ! " without ceasing, while to this
whispering another voice, as from within him, made
hideous answer. Then he felt that he was gradually
becoming part of this murmuring and this abysmal
chaos. His life in it seemed as a faint, flickering flame

S A N I N E 91

that might at any moment fade for ever. Then he
decided to keep a lamp burning in his room throughout
the night. In the light, the strange whisperings ceased,
the darkness vanished ; nor had he the impression of
being poised above a yawning abyss, because light made
him conscious of a thousand trivial and ordinary details
in his life ; the chairs, the light, the inkstand, his own
feet, an unfinished letter, an ikon, with its lamp that
he had never lighted, boots that he had forgotten to put
outside the door, and many other everyday things that
surrounded him.

Yet, even then, he could hear whisperings that came
from the corners of the room which the light of the lamp
did not reach, and again the black gulf yawned to receive
him. He was afraid to look into the darkness, or even
to think of it, for then, in a moment, dreadful gloom
surrounded him, veiling the lamp, hiding the world as
with a cold, dense mist from his view. It was this that
tortured, that appalled him. He felt as if he must cry
like a child, or beat his head against the wall. But as
the days went past, and Semenoff drew nearer to death,
he grew more used to such impressions. They only
became stronger and more awful if by a word or a gesture,
by the sight of a funeral or of a graveyard, he was
reminded that he, too, must die. Anxious to avoid such
warnings, he never went into any street that led to the
cemetery, nor ever slept on his back with hands folded
across his breast.

He had two lives, as it were ; his former life, ample
and obvious, which could not give a thought to death,
but ignored it, being concerned about its own affairs,
while hoping to live on for ever, cost what it might ;
and another life, mysterious, indefinite, obscure, that,
as a worm in an apple, secretly gnawed at the core of his
former life, poisoning it, making it insufferable.

It was owing to this double life that Semenoff, when
at last he found himself face to face with death and
knew that his end was nigh, felt scarcely any fear.
" Already ? " That is all he asked, in order to know
exactly what to expect.

92 S A N I N E

When in the faces of those around him he read the
answer to his question, he merely wondered that the
end should seem so simple, so natural, like that of some
heavy task, which had overtaxed his powers. At the
same time, by a new and strange inner consciousness
he perceived that it could not be otherwise, and that
death was the normal result of his enfeebled vitality.
He only felt sorry that he would never see anything
again. As they took him in a droschky to the hospital,
he gazed about him with wide-opened eyes, striving to
note everything at a glance, grieved that he could not
firmly fix in his memory every little detail of this world
with its ample sky, its human beings, its verdure, and
its distant blue horizons. Equally dear, in fact, un-
speakably precious to him, were all the little things that
he had never noticed, as well as those which he had
always found full of beauty and importance ; the heaven,
dark and vast, with its golden stars, the driver's gaunt
back, in its shabby smock; Novikoff's troubled coun-
tenance ; the dusty road ; houses with their lighted
windows ; the dark trees that silently stayed behind ;
the jolting wheels ; the soft evening breeze — all that he
could see, and hear, and feel.

Later on, in the hospital, his eyes wandered swiftly
round the large room, watching every movement, every
figure intently until prevented by physical pain which
produced a sense of utter isolation. His perceptions
were now concentrated in his chest, the source of all his
suffering. Gradually, very gradually, he began to drift
away from life. When now he saw something, it seemed
to him strange and meaningless. The last fight between
life and death had begun ; it filled his whole being ; it
created a new world, strange and lonely, a world of
terror, agony, and despairing conflict. Now and again
there were more lucid moments ; the pain ceased ; his
breathing was deeper and calmer, and through the white
veil sounds and shapes became more or less plain. But
all seemed faint and futile, as if they came from afar.
He heard sounds plainly, and then again they were
inaudible ; the figures moved noiselessly as those in

S A N I N E 93

a cinematograph ; familiar faces appeared strange and
he could not recollect them.

On the adjoining bed a man with a quaint, clean-shaven
face was reading aloud, but why he read, or to whom he
read, Semenoff never troubled to think. He distinctly-
heard that the parliamentary elections had been post-
poned, and that an attempt had been made to assassinate
a Grand Duke, but the words were empty and meaningless ;
like bubbles, they burst and vanished, leaving no trace.
The man's lips moved, his teeth gleamed, his round eyes
rolled, the paper rustled, and the lamp shone from the
ceiling round which large, black, fierce-looking flies
revolved. In Semenoff's brain something seemed to
flame upwards, illuminating all that surrounded him.
He was suddenly conscious that all was now of
no account to him, and that all the work and business
in the world could not add one single hour to his life ;
but that he must die. Once more he sank down into
the waves of black mist ; again the silent conflict began
between two terrible and secret forces, the one con-
vulsively striving to destroy the other.

The second time that Semenoff regained consciousness
was when he heard weeping and chanting. This seemed
to him utterly unnecessary, having no sort of relation
to all that was going on within him. For a moment,
however, it lighted up the flame in his brain, and Semenoff
clearly perceived the mock-mournful face of a man who
was absolutely uninteresting to him. That was the last
sign of life. What followed was for those living wholly
beyond the pale of their thought or comprehension.

XII

" Come to my place, and we will hold a memorial service
for the departed," said Ivanoff to Sanine. The latter
nodded his acceptance. On the way, they bought vodka
and hors d'oeuvres, and overtook Yourii Svarogitsch, who
was walking slowly along the boulevard, looking much
depressed.

Semenoff's death had made a confused and painful
impression upon him which he found it necessary, yet
almost impossible, to analyse.

" After all, it is simple enough ! " said Yourii to
himself, endeavouring to draw a straight, short line in
his mind. " Man never existed before he was born ;
that does not seem to be terrible nor incompre-
hensible. Man's existence ends when he dies. That is
equally simple and easy to comprehend. Death, the
complete stoppage of the machine that creates vital
force, is perfectly comprehensible ; there is nothing
terrible about it. There was once a boy named Youra
who went to college and fought with his comrades, who
amused himself by chopping off the heads of thistles
and lived his own special and interesting life in his own
special way. This Youra died, and in his place quite
another man walks and thinks, the student, Yourii
Svarogitsch. If they were to meet, Youra would not
understand Yourii, and might even hate him as a possible
tutor ready to cause him no end of annoyance. There-
fore, between them there is a gulf, and therefore, if the
boy Youra is dead, I am dead myself, though till now
I never noticed it. That is how it is. Quite natural and
simple, after all ! If one reflects, what do we lose by
dying ? Life, at any rate, contains more sadness than
happiness. True it has its pleasures and it is hard to
lose them, but death rids us of so many ills, that in the
end we gain by it. That's simple, and not so terrible,
is it ? " said Yourii, aloud, with a sigh of relief ; but
suddenly he started, as another thought seemed to sting

94

S A N I N E 95

him. " No, a whole world, full of life and extra-
ordinarily complicated, suddenly transformed into
nothing ? No, that is not the transformation of the
boy Youra into Yourii Svarogitsch ! That is absurd
and revolting, and therefore terrible and incompre-
hensible ! "

With all his might Yourii strove to form a conception
of this state which no man finds it possible to support,
yet which every man supports, just as Semenoff had
done.

44 He did not die of fear, either," thought Yourii,
smiling at the strangeness of such a reflection. " No,
he was laughing at us all, with our priest, and our chanting,
and tears. How was it that Semenoff could laugh,
knowing that in a few moments all would be at an end ?
Was he a hero ? No ; it was not a question of heroism.
Then death is not as terrible as I thought."

While he was musing thus Ivanoff suddenly hailed
him in a loud voice.

44 Ah ! it's you ! Where are you going ? " asked
Yourii, shuddering.

" To say a mass for our departed friend," replied
Ivanoff, with brutal jocularity. " You had better come
with us. What's the good of being always alone ? "

Feeling sad and dispirited, Yourii did not find Sanine
and Ivanoff as distasteful to him as usual.

44 Very well, I will," he replied, but suddenly recol-
lecting his superiority, he thought to himself, 44 what
have I really in common with such fellows ? Am I to
drink their vodka, and talk commonplaces ? "

He was on the point of turning back, but he felt such
an utter horror of solitude that he went along with them.
Ivanoff and Sanine proffered no remarks, and thus in
silence they reached the former's lodging. It was already
quite dark. At the door, the figure of a man could be
dimly seen. He had a thick stick with a crooked handle.

44 Oh ! it's Uncle Peter Ilitsch ! " exclaimed Ivanoff
gleefully.

44 Yes ! that's he ! " replied the figure, in a deep,
resonant voice. Yourii remembered that Ivanoff's uncle

96 S A N I N E

was an old, drunken church chorister. He had a grey
moustache like one of the soldiers at the time of Nicholas
the First, and his shabby black coat had a most un-
pleasant smell.

" Bourn ! Bourn ! " His voice seemed to come out
of a barrel, when Ivanoff introduced him to Yourii,
who awkwardly shook hands with him, hardly knowing
what to say to such a person. He recollected, however,
that for him all men should be equal, so he politely gave
precedence to the old singer as they went in.

Ivanoff s lodging was more like an old lumber-room
than a place for human habitation, being very dusty
and untidy. But when his host had lighted the lamp,
Yourii perceived that the walls were covered with
engravings of pictures by Vasnetzoff, and that what had
seemed rubbish were books piled up in heaps. He still
felt somewhat ill at ease, and, to hide this, he began to
examine the engravings attentively.

" Do you like Vasnetzoff ? " asked Ivanoff as, without
waiting for an answer, he left the room to fetch a plate.
Sanine told Peter Ilitsch that Semenoff was dead. " God
rest his soul ! " droned the latter. " Ah ! well, it's all
over for him now."

Yourii glanced wistfully at him, and felt a sudden
sympathy for the old man.

Ivanoff now brought in bread, salted cucumbers, and
glasses, which he placed on the table that was covered
with a newspaper. Then, with a swift, scarcely per-
ceptible movement, he uncorked the bottle, not a drop
of its contents being spilt.

" Very neat ! " exclaimed Ilitsch approvingly.

" You can tell in a minute if a man knows what he's
about," said Ivanoff, with a self-complacent air, as he
filled the glasses with the greenish liquid.

"Now gentlemen," said he, raising his voice as he
took up his glass. " To the repose of the departed, &c. ! "

With that they began to eat, and more vodka was
consumed. They talked little, and drank the more.
Soon the atmosphere of the little room grew hot and
oppressive. Peter Ilitsch lighted a cigarette, and the

S A N I N E 97

air was filled with the bluish fumes of bad tobacco.
The drink and the smoke and the heat made Yourii
feel dizzy. Again he thought of Semenoff.

" There's something dreadful about death," he said.

" Why ? " asked Peter Ilitsch. " Death ? Ho ! ho 1!
It's absolutely necessary. Death ? Suppose one went
on living for ever ? Ho ! ho ! ! You mustn't talk like
that 1 Eternal life, indeed ! What would eternal life
be, eh ? "

Yourii at once tried to imagine what living for ever
would be like. He saw an endless grey stripe that
stretched aimlessly away into space, as though swept
onward from one wave to another. All conception of
colour, sound and emotion was blurred and dimmed,
being merged and fused in one grey turbid stream that
flowed on placidly, eternally. This was not life, but
everlasting death. The thought of it horrified him.

" Yes, of course," he murmured.

" It appears to have made a great impression upon
you," said Ivanoff.

" Upon whom does it not make an impression ? "
asked Yourii. Ivanoff shook his head vaguely, and
began to tell Ilitsch about Semenoff's last moments.
It was now insufferably close in the room. Yourii
watched Ivanoff, as his red lips sipped the vodka that
shone in the lamplight. Everything seemed to be going
round and round.

" A — a — a — a — a ! " whispered a voice in his ear, a
strange small voice.

" No ! death is an awful thing ! " he said again,
without noticing that he was replying to the mysterious
voice. " You're over-nervous about it," observed
Ivanoff contemptuously.

" Aren't you ? " said Yourii.

" I ? N — no ! Certainly, I don't want to die, as
there's not much fun in it, and living is far jollier. But,
if one has to die, I should like it to be quickly, withou
any fuss or nonsense."

" You have not tried yet 1 " laughed Sanine.

" No ; that's quite true ! " replied the other.

G

98 S A N I N E

" Ah ! well," continued Yourii, " one has heard all
that before. Say what you will, death is death, horrible
in itself, and sufficient to rob a man of all pleasure in
life who thinks of such a violent and inevitable end to
it. What is the meaning of life ? "

" It has no meaning," cried Ivanoff irritably.

" No, that is impossible," replied Yourii, " every-
thing is too wisely and carefully arranged, and "

" In my opinion," said Sanine, " there's nothing good
anywhere."

" How can you say that ? What about Nature ? "

" Nature ! Ha, ha ! " Sanine laughed feebly, and
waved his hand in derision. "It is customary, I know,
to say that Nature is perfect. The truth is, that Nature
is just as defective as mankind. Without any great effort
of imagination any of us could present a world a hundred
times better than this one. Why should we not have
perpetual warmth and light, and a garden ever verdant
and ever gay ? As to the meaning of life, of course
it has a meaning of some sort, because the aim implies
the march of things ; without an aim all would be chaos.
But this aim lies outside the pale of our existence, in the
very basis of the universe. That is certain. We cannot
be the origin nor the end of the universe. Our role
is a passive, and auxiliary one. By the mere fact of
living we fulfil our mission. Our life is necessary ; thus
our death is necessary also."

" For what ? "

44 How should I know ? " replied Sanine, " and,
besides, what do I care ? My life means my sensations,
pleasant or unpleasant ; what is outside those limits ;
well, to the deuce with it all ! Whatever hypothesis we
may like to invent, it will always remain an hypothesis
upon which it would be folly to construct life. Let
him who likes worry about it ; as for me, I mean to
live ! "

"Let us all have a drink on the strength of it!" suggested
Ivanoff.

" But you believe in God, don't you ? " said Ilitsch,
looking at Sanine with bleared eyes. " Nowadays

S A N I N E 99

nobody believes in anything — not even in that which is
easy of belief."

Sanine laughed. " Yes, I believe in God. As a child
I did that, and there's no need to dispute or to affirm
any reasons for doing so. It's the most profitable thing,
really, for if there is a God, I offer Him sincere faith,
and, if there isn't, well, all the better for me."

" But on belief or on unbelief all life is based ? " said
Yourii.

Sanine shook his head, and smiled complacently.

" No, my life is not based on such things," he said.

" On what, then ? " asked Yourii, languidly.
" A — a — a ! I mustn't drink any more," he thought
to himself, as he drew his hand across his cold, moist
brow. If Sanine made any reply he did not hear it.
His head was in a whirl, and for a moment he felt quite
overcome.

" I believe that God exists," continued Sanine,
" though I am not certain, absolutely certain. But
whether He does or not, I do not know Him, nor can
I tell what He requires of me. How could I possibly
know this, even though I professed the most ardent
faith in Him ? God is God, and, not being human,
cannot be judged by human standards. His created
world around us contains all ; good and evil, life and
death, beauty and ugliness — everything, in fact, and
thus all sense and all exact definition are lost to us, for
His sense is not human, nor His ideas of good and evil
human, either. Our conception of God must always be
an idolatrous one, and we shall always give to our fetish
the physiognomy and the garb suitable to the climatic
conditions of the country in which we live. Absurd,
isn't it."

" Yes, you're right," grunted Ivanoff, " quite right ! "

" Then, what is the good of living ? " asked Yourii,
as he pushed back his glass in disgust, " or of dying,
either ? "

" One thing I know," replied Sanine, " and that is,
that I don't want my life to be a miserable one. Thus,
before all things, one must satisfy one's natural desires.

100 SANINE •

Desire is everything. When a man's desires cease, his
life ceases, too, and if he kills his desires, then he kills
himself."

" But his desires may be evil ? "

" Possibly."

" Well, what then."

" Then . . . they must just be evil," replied Sanine
blandly, as he looked Yourii full in the face with his
clear, blue eyes.

Ivanoff raised his eyebrows incredulously and said
nothing. Yourii was silent also. For some reason or
other he felt embarrassed by those clear, blue eyes,
though he tried to keep looking at them.

For a few moments there was complete silence, so that
one could plainly hear a night-moth desperately beating
against the window-pane. Peter Ilitsch shook his head
mournfully, and his drink-besotted visage drooped
towards the stained, dirty newspaper. Sanine smiled
again. This perpetual smile irritated and yet fascinated
Yourii.

" What clear eyes he has ! " thought he.

Suddenly Sanine rose, opened the window, and let out
the moth. A wave of cool, pleasant air, as from soft
wings, swept through the room.

" Yes," said Ivanoff, in answer to his own thought,
" there are no two men alike, so, on the strength of that,
let's have another drink."

" No." said Yourii, shaking his head, " I won't have
any more."

" Eh— why not ? "

" I never drink much."

The vodka and the heat had made his head ache. He
longed to get out into the fresh air.

" I must be going," he said, getting up.

" Where ? Come on, have another drink ! "

" No really, I ought to " stammered Yourii,

looking for his cap.

" Well, good-bye ! "

As Yourii shut the door he heard Sanine saying to
Ilitsch, " Of course you're not like children ; they

S A N I N E 101

can't distinguish good from bad ; they are simple and

natural ; and that is why they " Then the door

was closed, and all was still.

High in the heavens shone the moon, and the cool night-
air touched Yourii's brow. All seemed beautiful and
romantic, and as he walked through the quiet moonlit
streets the thought to him was dreadful that in some
dark, silent chamber Semenoff lay on a table, yellow and
stiff. Yet, somehow, Yourii could not recall these
grievous thoughts that had recently oppressed him, and
had shrouded the whole world in gloom. His mood
was now of one tranquil sadness, and he felt impelled to
gaze at the moon. As he crossed a white deserted square
he suddenly thought of Sanine.

" What sort of man is that ? " he asked himself.

Annoyed to think that there was a man whom he,
Yourii, could not instantly define, he felt a certain
malicious pleasure in disparaging him.

" A phrase-maker, that's all he is ! Formerly the
fellow posed as a pessimist, disgusted with life and bent
upon airing impossible views of his own ; now, he's
trifling with animalism."

From Sanine Yourii's thoughts reverted to himself.
He came to the conclusion that he trifled with nothing
but that his thoughts, his sufferings, his whole personality,
were original, and quite different from those of other
men.

This was most agreeable ; yet something seemed to be
missing. Once more he thought of Semenoff. It was
grievous to know that he should never set eyes upon him
again, and though he had never felt any affection for
Semenoff, he now had become near and dear to him.
Tears rose to his eyes. He pictured the dead student
lying in the grave, a mass of corruption, and he remem-
bered these words of his :

" You'll be living, and breathing this air, and enjoying
this moonlight, and you'll go past my grave where I lie."

" Here, under my feet, like human beings, too," thought
Yourii, looking down at the dust. " I am trampling on
brains, and hearts, and human eyes ! Oh ! . . . And

102 S A N I N E

I shall die, too, and others will walk over me, thinking
just as I think now. Ah ! before it is too late, one must
live, one must live ! Yes ; but live in the right way,
so that not a moment of one's life be lost. Yet how is
one to do that ? "

The market-place lay white and bare in the moonlight.
All was silent in the town.

Never more shall singer's lute
Tidings of him tell,

Yourii hummed this softly to himself. Then he said,
aloud : " How tedious, sad, and dreadful it all is ! "
as if complaining to some one. The sound of his own
voice alarmed him, and he turned round to see if he had
been overheard. " I am drunk," he thought.

Silent and serene, the night looked down.

XIII

While Sina Karsavina and Dubova were absent on a
visit, Yourii's life seemed uneventful and monotonous.
His father was engaged, either at the club or with house-
hold matters, and Lialia and Riasantzeff found the
presence of a third person embarrassing, so that Yourii
avoided their society. It thus became his habit to go to
bed early and not to rise till the midday meal. All day
long, when in his room, or in the garden, he brooded over
matters, waiting for a supreme access of energy that
should spur him on to do some great work.

This " great work " each day assumed a different
form. Now it was a picture, or, again, it was a series
of articles that should show the world what a huge
mistake the social democrats had made in not giving
Yourii a leading r61e in their party. Or else it was an
article in favour of adherence to the people and of
strenuous co-operation with it — a very broad, imposing
treatment of the subject. Each day, however, as it
passed, brought nothing but boredom. Once or twice
Novikoff and Schafroff came to see him. Yourii also
attended lectures and paid visits, yet all this seemed to
him empty and aimless. It was not what he sought,
or fancied that he sought.

One day he went to see Riasantzeff. The doctor had
large, airy rooms filled with all such things as an athletic,
healthy man needs for his amusement ; Indian clubs,
dumb-bells, rapiers, fishing-rods, nets, tobacco-pipes, and
much else that savoured of wholesome, manly recreation.

Riasantzeff received him with frank cordiality, chatted
pleasantly, offered him cigarettes, and finally asked him
to go out shooting with him.

" I have not got a gun," said Yourii.

" Have one of mine. I have got five," replied
Riasantzeff. To him, Yourii was the brother of Lialia,
and he was anxious to be as kind to him as possible.
He therefore insisted upon Yourii's acceptance of one

103

104 S A N I N E

of his guns, eagerly displaying them all, taking them to
pieces, and explaining their make. He even fired at a
target in the yard, so that at last Yourii laughingly
accepted a gun and some cartridges, much to Riasantzeff's
pleasure.

14 That's first-rate ! " he said, " I had meant to get
some duck-shooting to-morrow, so we'll go together,
shall we ? "

" I should like it very much," replied Yourii.

When he got home he spent nearly two hours examining
his gun, fingering the lock, and taking aim at the lamp.
He then carefully greased his old shooting-boots.

On the following day, towards evening, Riasantzeff,
fresh, hearty as ever, drove up in a droschky with a smart
bay to fetch Yourii.

" Are you ready ? " he called out to him through the
open window.

Yourii, who had already donned cartridge-belt and game
bag, and carried his gun, came out, looking somewhat
overweighted and ill at ease.

" I'm ready, I'm ready," he said.

Riasantzeff, who was lightly and comfortably clad,
seemed somewhat astonished at Yourii's accoutrements.

" You'll find those things too heavy," he said, smiling.
" Take them all off and put them here. You needn't
wear them till we get there." He helped Yourii to
divest himself of his shooting-kit and placed them
underneath the seat. Then they drove away at a good
pace. The day was drawing to a close, but it was still
warm and dusty. The droschky swayed from side to side
so that Yourii had to hold tightly to the seat. Riasantzeff
talked and laughed the whole time, and Yourii was
compelled to join in his merriment. When they got
out into the fields where the stiff meadow-grass lightly
brushed against their feet it was cooler, and there was
no dust.

On reaching a broad level field Riasantzeff pulled up
the sweating horse and, placing his hand to his mouth,
shouted, in a clear, ringing voice, " Kousma — a . . .
Kousma — a — a ! "

S A N I N E 105

At the extreme end of the field, like silhouettes, a
row of little men could be descried who, at the
sound of Riasantzeff's voice, looked eagerly in his
direction.

One of the men then came across the field, walking
carefully between the furrows. As he approached,
Yourii saw that he was a burly, grey-haired peasant with
a long beard and sinewy arms.

He came up to them slowly, and said, with a smile,
44 You know how to shout, Anatole Pavlovitch ! "

44 Good day, Kousma ; how are you ? Can I leave
the horse with you ? "

44 Yes, certainly you can," said the peasant in a calm,
friendly voice, as he caught hold of the horse's bridle.
44 Come for a little shooting, eh ? And who is that ? "
he asked, with a kindly glance at Yourii.

44 It is Nicolai Yegorovitch's son," replied Riasantzeff.

44 Ah, yes ! I see that he is just like Ludmilla Nico-
lai jevna ! Yes, yes ! "

Yourii was pleased to find that this genial old peasant
knew his sister and spoke of her in such a simple, friendly
way.

44 Now, then, let us go ! " said Riasantzeff, in his
cheery voice, as he walked first, after getting his gun
and game-bag.

44 May you have luck ! " cried Kousma, and then
they could hear him coaxing the horse as he led it away
to his hut.

They had to walk nearly a verst before they reached
the marsh. The sun had almost set, and the soil,
covered with lush grasses and reeds, felt moist beneath
their feet. It looked darker, and had a damp smell,
while in places water shimmered. Riasantzeff had
ceased smoking, and stood with legs wide apart, looking
suddenly grave as if he had to begin an important
and responsible task. Yourii kept to the right, trying
to find a dry comfortable place. In front of them lay
the water which, reflecting the clear evening sky, looked
pure and deep. The other bank, like a black stripe,
could be discerned in the distance.

106 SANINE

Almost immediately, in twos and threes, ducks rose
and flew slowly over the water, starting up suddenly
out of the rushes, and then passing over the sportsmen's
heads, a row of silhouettes against the saffron sky.
Raisantzeff had the first shot, and with success. A
wounded duck tumbled sideways into the water, beating
down the rushes with its wings.

" I hit it ! " exclaimed Riasantzeff, as he gaily laughed
aloud.

" He's really a good sort of fellow," thought Yourii,
whose turn it was to shoot. He brought down his bird
also, but it fell at such a distance that he could not find
it, though he scratched his hands and waded knee-deep
through the water. This disappointment only made
Jiim more keen ; it was fine fun, so he thought.

Amid the clear, cool air from the river the gun-smoke
had a strangely pleasant smell, and, in the darkening
landscape, the merry shots flashed out with charming
effect. The wounded wild fowl, as they fell, described
graceful curves against the pale green sky where now the
first faint stars gleamed. Yourii felt unusually energetic
and gay. It was as if he had never taken part in anything
so interesting or exhilarating. The birds rose more
rarely now, and the deepening dusk made it more difficult
to take aim.

" Hullo there ! We must get home ! " shouted
Riasantzeff, from a distance.

Yourii felt sorry to go, but in accordance with his
companion's suggestion he advanced to meet him,
stumbling over rushes and splashing through the water
which in the dusk was not distinguishable from dry soil.
As they met, their eyes flashed, and they were both
breathless.

" Well," asked Riasantzeff, " did you have any luck ? "

" I should say so," replied Yourii, displaying his well-
filled bag.

" Ah ! you're a better shot than I am," said
Riasantzeff pleasantly.

Yourii was delighted by such praise, although he
always professed to care nothing for physical strength

S A N I N E 107

or skill. " I don't know about better," he observed
carelessly, " It was just luck."

By the time they reached the hut it was quite dark.
The melon-field was immersed in gloom, and only the
foremost rows of melons shimmered white in the fire-
light, casting long shadows. The horse stood, snorting,
beside the hut, where a bright little fire of dried steppe-
grass burnt and crackled. They could hear men talking
and women laughing, and one voice, mellow and cheery
in tone, seemed familiar to Yourii.

" Why, it's Sanine," said Riasantzeff, in astonishment.
" How did he get here ? "

They approached the fire. Grey-bearded Kousma,
seated beside it, looked up, and nodded to welcome them.

44 Any luck ? " he asked, in his deep bass voice, through
a drooping moustache.

44 Just a bit," replied Riasantzeff.

Sanine, sitting on a huge pumpkin, also raised his head
and smiled at them.

44 How is it that you are here ? " asked Riasantzeff.

" Oh ! Kousma Prokorovitch and I are old friends,"
explained Sanine, smiling the more.

Kousma laughed, showing the yellow stumps of his
decayed teeth as he slapped Sanine's knee good-naturedly
with his rough hand.

" Yes, yes," he said. " Sit down here, Anatole
Pavlovitch, and taste this melon. And you, my young
master, what is your name ? "

" Yourii Nicolaijevitch," replied Yourii, pleasantly.

He felt somewhat embarrassed, but he at once took a
liking to this gentle old peasant with his friendly speech,
half Russian, half dialect.

" Yourii Nicolaijevitch ! Aha ! We must make each
other's acquaintance, eh ? Sit you down, Yourii
Nicolaijevitch."

Yourii and Riasantzeff sat down by the fire on two
big pumpkins.

44 Now, then show us what you have shot," said
Kousma.

A heap of dead birds fell out of the game-bags, and

108 S A N I N E

the ground was dabbled with their blood. In the
flickering firelight they had a weird, unpleasant look.
The blood was almost black, and the claws seemed to
move. Kousma took up a duck, and felt beneath its
wings.

" That's a fat one," he said approvingly. " You
might spare me a brace, Anatole Pavlovitch. What will
you do with such a lot ? "

" Have them all ! " exclaimed Yourii, blushing.

" Why all ? Come, come, you're too generous,"
laughed the old man. M I'll just have a brace, to show
that there's no ill-feeling."

Other peasants and their wives now approached the
fire, but, dazzled by the blaze, Yourii could not plainly
distinguish them. First one and then another face
swiftly emerged from the gloom, and then vanished.
Sanine, frowning, regarded the dead birds, and, turning
away, suddenly rose. The sight of these beautiful
creatures lying there in blood and dust, with broken
wings, was distasteful to him.

Yourii watched everything with great interest as he
greedily ate large, luscious slices of a ripe melon which
Kousma cut off with his pocket-knife that had a yellow
bone handle.

" Eat, Yourii Nicolaijevitch ; this melon's good," he
said. " I know your little sister, Ludmilla Nicolaijevna,
and your father, too. Eat, and enjoy it."

Everything pleased Yourii ; the smell of the peasants,
an odour as of newly-baked bread and sheepskins ; the
bright blaze of the fire ; the gigantic pumpkin upon
which he sat ; and the glimpse of Kousma's face when
he looked downwards, for when the old man raised his
head it was hidden in the gloom and only his eyes gleamed.
Overhead there was darkness now, which made the
lighted place seem pleasant and comfortable. Looking
upwards, Yourii could at first see nothing, and then
suddenly the calm, spacious heaven appeared and the
distant stars.

He felt, however, somewhat embarrassed, not knowing
what to say to these peasants. The others, Kousma,

S A N I N E 109

Sanine, and Riasantzcff, chatted frankly and simply to
them about this or that, never troubling to choose some
special theme for talk.

" Well, how's the land ? " he asked, when there was
a short pause in the conversation, though he felt that
the question sounded forced and out of place.

Kousma looked up, and answered :

" We must wait, just wait a while, and see." Then he
began talking about the melon-fields and other personal
matters, Yourii feeling only more and more embarrassed,
although he rather liked listening to it all.

Footsteps were heard approaching. A little red dog
with a curly white tail appeared in the light, sniffing at
Yourii and Riasantzeff, and rubbing itself against
Sanine's knees, who patted its rough coat. It was
followed by a little, old man with a sparse beard and
small bright eyes. He carried a rusty single-barrelled gun.

"It is grandfather, our guardian," said Kousma.
The old man sat down on the ground, deposited his
weapon, and looked hard at Yourii and Riasantzeff.

" Been out shooting ; yes, yes ! " he mumbled,
showing his shrivelled, discoloured gums. " He ! He !
Kousma, it's time to boil the potatoes ! He ! He ! "

Riasantzeff picked up the old fellow's flint-lock, and
laughingly showed it to Yourii. It was a rusty old
barrel-loader, very heavy, with wire wound round it.

" I say," saicUjiflt " what sort of a gun do you call
this ? Aren't you afraid to shoot with it ? "

" He ! He ! I nearly shot myself with it once !
Stepan Schapka, he told me that one could shoot with-
out . . . caps ? He ! He ! . . . without caps ! He said
that if there were any sulphur left in the gun one could
fire without a cap. So I put the loaded rifle on my
knee like this, and fired it off at full cock with my finger,
like this, see ? Then bang ! it went off ! Nearly killed
myself ! He ! He ! Loaded the rifle, and bang ! !
Nearly killed myself I "

They all laughed, and there were tears of mirth in
Yourii's eyes, so absurd did the little man seem with his
tufted grey beard and his sunken jaws.

110 SANINE

The old fellow laughed, too, till his little eyes watered.
" Very nearly killed myself ! He ! He ! "

In the darkness, and beyond the circle of light, one
could hear laughter, and the voices of girls whom shyness
had kept at a distance. A few feet away from the fire,
and in quite a different place from where Yourii imagined
him to be seated, Sanine struck a match. In the reddish
flare of it Yourii saw his calm, friendly eyes, and beside
him a young face whose soft eyes beneath their dark
brows looked up at Sanine with simple joy.

Riasantzeff, as he winked to Kousma, said :

" Grandfather, hadn't you better keep an eye on your
granddaughter, eh ? "

" What's the good ! " replied Kousma, with a careless
gesture. " Youth is youth."

" He ! He ! " laughed the old man in his turn, as
with his fingers he plucked a red-hot coal from the fire.

Sanine's laugh was heard in the darkness. The girls
may have felt ashamed, for they had moved away, and
their voices were scarcely audible.

"It is time to go," said Riasantzeff, as he got up.
" Thank you, Kousma."

" Not at all," replied the other, as with his sleeve he
brushed away the black melon-pips that had stuck to his
grey beard. He shook hands with both of them, and
Yourii again felt a certain repugnance to the touch of
his rough, bony hand. As they retreated from the fire,
the gloom seemed less intense. Above were the cold,
glittering stars and the vast dome of heaven, serenely
fair. The group by the fire, the horses, and the pile of
melons all became blacker against the light.

Yourii tripped over a pumpkin and nearly fell.

" Look out ! " said Sanine. " Good-bye ! "

" Good-bye ! " replied Yourii, looking round at the
other's tall, dark form, leaning against which he fancied
that he saw another, the graceful figure of a woman.
Yourii's heart beat faster. He suddenly thought of Sina
Karsavina, and envied Sanine.

Once more the wheels of the droschky rattled, and
once again the good old horse snorted as it ran.

SANINE 111

The fire faded in distance, as did the sound of voices
and laughter. Stillness reigned. Yourii slowly looked
upwards to the sky with its jewelled web of stars. As
they reached the outskirts of the town, lights flashed here
and there, and dogs barked. Riasantzeff said to Yourii :

" Old Kousma's a philosopher, eh ? "

Seated behind, Yourii looked at Riasantzeff's
neck, and roused from his own melancholy thoughts,
endeavoured to understand what he said.

" Oh ! . . . Yes ! " he replied hesitatingly.

" I didn't know that Sanine was such a gay dog,"
laughed Riasantzeff.

Yourii was not dreaming now, and he recalled the
momentary vision of Sanine and that pretty girlish face
illumined by the light of a match. Again he felt jealous,
yet suddenly it occurred to him that Sanine's treatment
of the girl was base and contemptible.

" No, I had no idea of it, either," said Yourii, with a
touch of irony that was lost upon Riasantzeff, who
whipped up the horse and, after a while, remarked :

" Pretty girl, wasn't she ? I know her. She's the
old fellow's grandchild."

Yourii was silent. His contemplative mood was in a
moment dispelled, and he now felt convinced that Sanine
was a coarse, bad man.

Riasantzeff shrugged his shoulders, and at last blurted
out :

" Deuce take it ! Such a night, eh ? It seems to
have got hold of me, too. I say, suppose we drive back,
and "

Yourii did not at first understand what he meant.

" There are some fine girls there, you know. What do
you say ? Shall we go back ? " continued Riasantzeff,
sniggering.

Yourii blushed deeply. A thrill of animal lust shot
through his frame, and enticing pictures rose up before
his heated imagination. Yet, controlling himself, he
answered, in a dry voice :

" No ; it is time that we were at home." Then he
added, maliciously : " Lialia is waiting for us."

112 S A NINE

Riasantzeff collapsed.

" Oh, yes, of course ; yes, we ought to be back by
now ! " he hastily muttered.

Yourii ground his teeth, and, glaring at the driver's
broad back in its white jacket, remarked aggressively :

" I have no particular liking for adventures of that
sort."

" No, no ; I understand. Ha ! Ha ! " replied
Riasantzeff, laughing in a faint half-hearted way. After
that he was silent.

" Damn it ! How stupid of me ! " he thought.

They drove home without uttering another word, and
to each the way seemed endless.

" You will come in, won't you ? " asked Yourii,
without looking up.

" Er . . . No ! I have got to see a patient. Besides
it is rather late," replied Riasantzeff hesitatingly.

Yourii got out of the droschky, not caring to take
the gun or the game. Everything that belonged
to Riasantzeff he now seemed to loathe. The latter
called out to him.

" I say, you've left your gun ! "

Yourii turned round, took this and the bag with an
air of disgust. After shaking hands awkwardly with
Riasantzeff, he entered the house. The latter drove on
slowly for a short distance and then turned sharply into
a side-street. The rattle of wheels on the road could
now be heard in another direction. Yourii listened to
it, furious, and yet secretly jealous. " A bad lot ! " he
muttered, feeling sorry for his sister.

XIV

Having carried the things indoors, Yourii, for want of
something else to do, went down the steps leading to the
garden. It was dark as the grave, and the sky with it
vast company of gleaming stars enhanced the weird effect.
There, on one of the steps, sat Lialia ; her little grey form
was scarcely perceptible in the gloom.

" Is that you, Yourii ? " she asked.

" Yes, it is," he replied, as he sat down beside her.
Dreamily she leant her head on his shoulder, and the
fragrance of her fresh, sweet girlhood touched his senses.

" Did you have good sport ? " said Lialia. Then after
a pause, she added softly, " and where is Anatole Pavlo-
vitch ? I heard you drive up."

" Your Anatole Pavlovitch is a dirty beast ! " is what
Yourii, feeling suddenly incensed, would have liked to say.
However, he answered carelessly :

" I really don't know. He had to see a patient.""

" A patient," repeated Lialia mechanically. She said
no more, but gazed at the stars.

She was not vexed that Riasantzeff had not come;
On the contrary, she wished to be alone, so that, undis-
turbed by his presence, she might give herself up to
delicious meditation. To her, the sentiment that filled
her youthful being was strange and sweet and tender. It
was the consciousness of a climax, desired, inevitable,
and yet disturbing, which should close the page of her past
life and commence that of her new one. So new, indeed,
that Lialia was to become an entirely different being.

To Yourii it was strange that his merry, laughing sister
should have become so quiet and pensive. Depressed
and irritable himself, everything, Lialia, the dark garden
the distant starlit sky seemed to him sad and cold. He
did not perceive that this dreamy mood concealed
not sorrow, but the very essence and fulness of life. In
the wide heaven surged forces immeasurable and un-
known ; the dim garden drew forth vital sap from the

ПЗ H

114 S A N I N E

earth ; and in Lialia's heart there was a joy so full, so
complete, that she feared lest any movement, any im-
pression should break the spell. Radiant as the starry
heaven, mysterious as the dark garden, harmonies of
love and yearning vibrated within her soul.

" Tell me, Lialia, do you love Anatole Pavlovitch very
much ? " asked Yourii, gently, as if he feared to rouse her.

" How can you ask ? " she thought, but, recollecting
herself, she nestled closer to her brother, grateful to him for
not speaking of anything else but of her life's one interest
— the man she adored.

" Yes, very much," she replied, so softly that Yourii
guessed rather than heard what she said, striving to re-
strain her tears of joy. Yet Yourii thought that he could
detect a certain, note of sadness in her voice, and his pity
for her, as his hatred of Riasantzeff, increased.

" Why ? " he asked, feeling amazed at such a question.

Lialia looked up in astonishment, and laughed gently.

" You silly boy ! Why, indeed ! Because . . . Well,
have you never been in love yourself ? He's so good, so
honest and upright ..."

" So good-looking, and strong," she would have added,
but she only blushed and said nothing.

" Do you know him well ? " asked Yourii.

" 1 ought not to have asked that," he thought, inwardly
vexed, " for, of course she thinks that he is the best man
in the whole world."

" Anatole tells me everything," replied Lialia timidly,
yet triumphantly.

Yourii smiled, and, aware now that there was no going
back, retorted, " Are you quite sure ? "

" Of course I am ; why should I not be ? " Lialia's
voice trembled.

" Oh ! nothing. I merely asked," said Yourii, some-
what confused.

Lialia was silent. He could not guess what was passing
through her mind.

" Perhaps you know something about him ? " she said
suddenly. There was a suggestion of pain in her voice,
which puzzled Yourii.

SANINE 115

"Oh! no," he said, "not at all. What should I
know about Anatole Pavlovitch ? "

" But you would not have spoken like that, otherwise,"
persisted Lialia.

" All that I meant was — well," Yourii stopped short,
feeling half ashamed, " well, we men, generally speaking,
are all thoroughly depraved, all of us."

Lialia was silent for a while, and then burst out laughing.

" Oh ! yes, I know that ! " she exclaimed.

Her laughter to him seemed quite out of place.

" You can't take matters so lightly," he replied petu-
lantly, " nor can you be expected to know everything that
goes on. You have no idea of all the vile things of life ;
you are too young, too pure."

" Oh ! indeed ! " said Lialia, laughing, and flattered.
Then in a more serious tone she continued, " Do you
suppose that I have not thought of such things ? Indeed,
I have ; and it has always pained and grieved me that we
women should care so much for our reputation and our
chastity, being afraid to take a step lest we — well, lest
we should fall, while men almost look upon it as an heroic
deed to seduce a girl. That is all horribly unjust, isn't it ?"

" 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
sound of bis voice drew him on,

116 SANINE

" The worst of it is that not only do they all know this,
and tacitly agree that it must be so, but they enact com-
plete 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 Riasant-
zeff' 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.

She felt that she loved him, and that he loved her. This
was the essential thing ; all else for her was of no import-
ance 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,

SANINE 117

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

44 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 Pavlo-
vitch is better than the rest, Lialia ! " he repeated in
despair. Lialia, still sobbing, shook violently, and her
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.

44 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,
44 What has happened ? "

44 Oh ! nothing ! A mere trifle ! " replied Yourii, with a
forced laugh. 44 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.

44 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.

118 S A NINE

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.

He looked across to where in the dark grass that poor
little frog was dying, or perhaps, after terrible agony, lay
dead. A whole world had, as it were, been destroyed ;
an individual and independent life had come to a hideous
end, yet utterly unnoticed and unheard.

And then, by ways inscrutable, Yourii was led to the
strange, disquieting thought that all which went to make
up a life, the secret instincts of loving or of hating that
involuntarily caused him to accept one thing and to reject
another ; his intuitive sense regarding good or bad ; that
all this was merely as a faint mist, in which his personality
alone was shrouded. By the world in its huge, vast en-
tirety all his profoundest and most agonising experiences
were as utterly and completely ignored as the death-agony
of this little frog. In imagining that his sufferings and
his emotions were of interest to others, he had expressly
and senselessly woven a complicated net between himself
and the universe. The moment of death sufficed to
destroy this net, and to leave him, devoid of pity or
pardon, utterly alone.

Once more his thoughts reverted to Semenoff and to the
indifference shown by the deceased student towards all
lofty ideals which so profoundly interested him, Yourii,
and millions of his kind. This brought him to think of
the simple joy of living, the charm of beautiful women,
of moonlight, of nightingales, a theme upon which he had
mournfully reflected on the day following his last sad
talk with Semenoff.

At that time he had not understood why Semenoff
attached importance to futile things such as boating
or the comely shape of a girl, while deliberately refusing to
be interested in the loftiest and most profound conceptions.
Now, however, Yourii perceived that it could not have
been otherwise, for it was these trivial things that consti-

SANINE 119

tuted life, the real life, full of sensations, emotions,
enjoyments ; and that all these lofty conceptions were
but empty thoughts, vain verbiage, powerless to influence
in the slightest the great mystery of life and death.
Important, complete though these might be, other words,
other thoughts no less weighty and important must
follow in the future.

At this conclusion, evolved unexpectedly from his
thoughts concerning good and evil, Yourii seemed utterly
nonplussed. It was as though a great void lay before him,
and, for a moment, his brain felt free and clear, as one in
dream feels able to float through space just whither he
will. It alarmed him. With all his might he strove to
collect his habitual conceptions of life, and then the
alarming sensation disappeared. All became gloomy and
confused as before.

Yourii came near to admitting that life was the realiza-
tion of freedom, and consequently that it was natural
for a man to live for enjoyment. Thus Riasantzeff's
point of view, though inferior, was yet a perfectly logical
one in striving to satisfy his sexual needs as much as
possible, they being the most urgent. But then he had
to admit that the conceptions of debauchery and of purity
were merely as withered leaves that cover fresh grown
grass, and that girls romantic and chaste as Lialia or Sina
Karsavina had the right to plunge into the stream of
sensual enjoyment. Such an idea shocked him as being
both frivolous and nasty, and he endeavoured to drive
it from his brain and heart with his usual vehement, stern
phrases.

" Well, yes," he thought, gazing upwards at the starry
sky, " life is emotion, but men are not unreasoning beasts.
They must master their passions ; their desires must be set
upon what is good. Yet, is there a God beyond the stars? "

As he suddenly asked himself this, a confused, painful
sense of awe seemed to crush him to the ground. Per-
sistently he gazed at a brilliant star in the tail of the Great
Bear and recollected how Kousma the peasant in the
melon-field had called this majestic constellation a " wheel-
barrow." He felt annoyed, in a way, that such an

120 S A N I N E

irrelevant thought should have crossed his mind. He
gazed at the black garden in sharp contrast to the shining
sky, pondering, meditating.

" If the world were deprived of feminine purity and
grace, that are as the first sweet flowers of spring, what
would remain sacred to mankind ? "

As he thought thus, he pictured to himself a company
of lovely maidens, fair as spring flowers, seated in sunlight
on green meadows beneath blossoming boughs. Their
youthful breasts, delicately moulded shoulders, and supple
limbs moved mysteriously before his eyes, provoking
exc. .itely voluptuous thrills. As if dazed, he passed his
hand across his brow.

" My nerves are overwrought ; I must get to bed,"
thought he. With sensuous visions such as these before
his eyes, depressed and ill at ease, Yourii went hurriedly
indoors. When in bed, after vain efforts to sleep, his
thoughts reverted to Li alia and Riasantzeff.

" Why am I so indignant because Lialia is not
Riasantzeff 's only love ? "

To this question he could find no reply. Suddenly the
image of Sina Karsavina rose up before him, soothing his
heated senses. Yet, though he strove to suppress his
feelings, it became ever clearer to him why he wanted her
to be just as she was, untouched and pure.

" Yes, but I love her," thought Yourii, for the first
time, and it was this idea that banished all others, even
bringing tears to his eyes. But in another moment he
was asking himself with a bitter smile, " Why, then, did
I make love to other women, before her ? True, I did
not know of her existence, yet neither did Riasantzeff
know of Lialia. At that time we both thought that the
woman whom we desired to possess was the real, the sole,
the indispensable one. We were wrong then ; perhaps we
are wrong now. It comes to this, that we must either
remain perpetually chaste, or else enjoy absolute sexual
liberty, allowing women, of course, to do the same. Now,
after all, Riasantzeff is not to blame for having loved
other women before Lialia, but because he still carries on
with several ; and that is not what I do."

SANINE 121

The thought made Yourii feel very proud and pure, but
only for a moment, for he suddenly recollected his
seductive vision of sweet, supple girls in sunlight. He was
utterly overwhelmed. His mind became a chaos of con-
flicting thoughts.

Finding it uncomfortable to lie on his right side, he
awkwardly turned over on to his left. " The fact is," he
thought, " not one of all the women I have known could
ever satisfy me for the whole of my life. Thus, what I
have called true love is impossible, not to be realized ; and
to dream of such a thing is sheer folly."

Feeling just as uncomfortable when lying on his left
side, he turned over again, restless and perspiring, beneath
the hot coverlet ; and now his head ached.

" Chastity is an ideal, but, to realize this, humanity
would perish. Therefore, it is folly. And life ? what is
life but folly too ? " He almost uttered the words in a
loud voice, grinding his teeth with such fury that yellow
stars flashed before his eyes.

So, till morning, he tossed from side to side, his heart
and brain heavy with despairing thoughts. At last, to
escape from them, he sought to persuade himself that he
too, was a depraved, sensual egoist, and that his scruples
were but the outcome of hidden lust. Yet this only
depressed him the more, and relief was finally obtained
by the simple question :

" Why, after all, do I torment myself in this way ? "

Disgusted at all such futile processes of self-examination,
Yourii, nerveless and exhausted, finally fell asleep.

XV

Lialia wept in her room for such a long while that
at last, her face buried in the pillows, she fell asleep.
She woke next morning with aching head and swollen
eyes, her first thought being that she must not cry, as
Riasantzeff, who was coming to lunch, would be shocked
to see her looking so plain. Then, suddenly, she re-
collected that all was over between them, and a sense
of bitter pain and burning love caused her to weep afresh.

" How base, how horrible ! " she murmured, striving to
keep back her tears. " And why ? Why ? " she repeated,
as infinite grief for love that was lost seemed to overwhelm
her. It was revolting to think that Riasantzeff had
always lied to her in such a facile, heartless way. " And
not only he, but all the others lied, too," she thought.
" They all of them professed to be so delighted at our
marriage, and said that he was such a good, honest fellow !
Well, no, they didn't actually lie about it, but they simply
didn't think it was wrong. How hateful of them ! "

Thus all those who surrounded her seemed odious, evil
persons. She leant her forehead against the window-
pane and through her tears, gazed at the garden. It was
gloomy, there ; and large raindrops beat incessantly
against the panes, so that Lialia could not tell if it were
these or her tears which hid the garden from her view.
The trees looked sad and forlorn, their pale, dripping
leaves and black boughs faintly discernible amid the
general downpour that converted the lawn into a muddy
swamp.

And Lialia 's whole life seemed to her utterly unhappy ;
the future was hopeless, the past all dark.

When the maid-servant came to call her to breakfast,
Lialia, though she heard the words, failed to understand
their meaning. Afterwards, at table, she felt confused
when her father spoke to her. It was as if he spoke with
special pity in his voice ; no doubt, every one knew by
this time bow abominably false to her the beloved one

122

S A N I N E 123

had been. She hastily returned to her room and once
more sat down and gazed at the grey, dreary garden.

" Why should he be so false ? Why should he have
hurt me like this ? Is it that he does not love me ? No,
Tolia loves me, and I love him. Well, then, what is wrong ?
Wrhy it's this ; he's deceived me ; he's been making love
to all sorts of nasty women. I wonder if they loved him
as I love him ? " she asked herself, naively, ardently.
" Oh ! how silly I am, to be sure ! What's the good of
worrying about that ? He has been false to me, and
everything now is at an end. Oh ! how perfectly miser-
able I am ! Yes, I ought to worry about it ! He was
false to me ! At least, he might have confessed it to me !
But he didn't ! Oh ! it's abominable I Kissing a lot of
other women, and perhaps, even . . . It's awful. Oh !
I'm so wretched ! "

A little frog hopped across the path.
With legs outstretched !

Thus sang Lialia, mentally, as she spied a little grey
ball hopping timidly across the slippery foot-path.

" Yes, I am miserable, and it is all over," thought she,
as the frog disappeared in the long grass. " For me
it was all so beautiful, so wonderful, and for him, well —
just an ordinary, commonplace affair ! That is why he
always avoided speaking to me of his past life I That
is why he always looked so strange, as if he were thinking
of something ; as if he were thinking ' I know all about
that ; I know exactly what you feel and what the result
of it will be.' While all the time, I was. . . . Oh ! it's
horrible ! It's shameful ! I'll never, never love anybody
again ! "

And she wept again, her cheek pressed against the cool
window-pane, as she watched the drifting clouds.

" But Tolia is coming to lunch to-day ! " The thought
of it made her shiver. " What am I to say to him ?
What ought one to say in cases of this kind ? "

Lialia opened her mouth and stared anxiously at the
wall.

" I must ask Yourii about it. Dear Yourii ! He's so

124 S A N I N E

good and upright ! " she thought, as tears of sympathy
filled her eyes. Then, being never wont to postpone
matters, she hastened to her brother's room. There she
found Schafroff who was discussing something with
Yourii. She stood, irresolute, in the doorway.

" Good morning," she said absently.

" Good moring ! " replied Schafroff. " Pray come
in, Ludmilla Nicolaijevna ; your help is absolutely neces-
sary in this matter."

Still somewhat embarrassed, Lialia sat down obediently
at the table and began fingering in desultory fashion some
of the green and red pamphlets which were neaped upon it.

" You see, it's like this," began Schafroff, turning
towards her as if he were about to explain something
extremely complicated, " several of our comrades at
Koursk are very hard up, and we must absolutely do what
we can to help them. So I think of getting up a concert,
eh, what ? "

This favourite expression of Schafroff' s, " eh, what ? "
reminded Lialia of her object in coming to her brother's
room, and she glanced hopefully at Yourii.

" Why not ? It's a very good idea ! " she replied, won-
dering why Yourii avoided her glance.

After Lialia's torrent of tears and the gloomy thoughts
which had harassed him all night long, Yourii felt too
depressed to speak to his sister. He had expected that
she would come to him for advice, yet to give this in
a satisfactory way seemed impossible. So, too, it was
impossible to take back what he had said in order to com-
fort Lialia, and thrust her back into Riasantzeff's arms ;
nor had he the heart to give the death-blow to her childish
happiness.

" Well, this is what we have decided to do," continued
Schafroff, moving nearer to Lialia, as if the matter were
becoming much more complex, " we mean to ask Lida
Sanina and Sina Karsavina to sing. Each a solo, first of
all, and afterwards a duet. One is a contralto, and the
other, a soprano, so that will do nicely. Then I shall
play the violin, and afterwards Sarudine might sing,
accompanied by Tanaroff."

SANINE 125

" Oh ! then, officers are to take part in the concert, are
they ? " asked Lialia mechanically, thinking all the while
of something quite different.

44 Why, of course ! " exclaimed Schafroff, with a wave
of his hand. " Lida has only got to accept, and they'll
all swarm round her like bees. As for Sarudine, he'll
be delighted to sing ; it doesn't matter where, so long as
he can sing. This will attract a good many of his brother-
officers, and we shall get a full house."

44 You ought to ask Sina Karsavina," said Lialia,
looking wistfully at her brother. 44 He surely can't have
forgotten," she thought. 44 How can he discuss this
stupid concert, whilst I . . ."

44 Why, I told you just now we had done so ! " replied
Schafroff. 44 Oh ! yes, so you did," said Lialia, smiling
faintly. " Then there's Lida. But you mentioned her
I think ? "

44 Of course I did ! Whom else can we ask, eh ? "

44 1 really . . . don't know ! " faltered Lialia. 44 I've
got such a headache."

Yourii glanced hurriedly at his sister, and then con-
tinued to pore over his pamphlets. Pale and heavy-eyed,
she excited his compassion.

44 Oh! why, why did I say all that to her?" he
thought. 44 The whole question is so obscure, to me, as to
so many others, and now it must needs trouble her poor
little heart ! Why, why did I say that ! "

He felt as if he could tear his hair.

44 If you please, miss," said the maid at the door, 44 Mr.
Anatole Pavlovitch has just come."

Yourii gave another frightened glance at his sister,
and met her sad eyes. In confusion he turned to Schafroff,
and said hastily :

44 Have you read Charles Bradlaugh ? "

44 Yes, we read some of his works with Dubova, and Sina
Karsavina. Most interesting."

44 Yes. Oh ! have they come back ? "

44 Yes."

44 Since when ? " asked Yourii, hiding his emotion.

44 Since the day before yesterday."

126 S A N I N E

" Oh ! really ! " replied Yourii, as he watched Lialia.
He felt ashamed and afraid in her presence, as if he had
deceived her.

For a moment Lialia stood there irresolute, touching
things nervously on the table. Then she approached the
door.

" Oh ! what have I done ! " thought Yourii, as, sincerely
grieved, he listened to the sound of her faltering footsteps.
As she went towards the other room, Lialia, doubting
and distressed, felt as if she were frozen. It seemed as
though she were wandering in a dark wood. She glanced
at a mirror, and saw the reflection of her own rueful
countenance.

" He shall just see me looking like this ! " she thought.

Riasantzeff was standing in the dining-room, saying in
his remarkably pleasant voice to Nicolai Yegorovitch :

" Of course, it's rather strange, but quite harmless."

At the sound of his voice Lialia felt her heart throb
violently, as if it must break. When Riasantzeff saw her,
he suddenly stopped talking and came forward to meet
her with outstretched arms. She alone knew that this
gesture signified his desire to embrace her.

Lialia looked up shyly at him, and her lips trembled.
Without a word she pulled her hand away, crossed the
room and opened the glass door leading to the balcony.
Riasantzeff watched her, calmly, but with slight astonish-
ment.

" My Ludmilla Nicolai jevna is cross," he said to Nicolai
Yegorovitch with serio-comic gravity of manner. The
latter burst out laughing.

" You had better go and make it up."

" There's nothing else to be done ! " sighed Riasantzeff,
in droll fashion, as he followed Lialia on to the balcony.

It was still raining. The monotonous sound of falling
drops filled the air ; but the sky seemed clearer now, and
there was a break in the clouds.

Lialia, her cheek propped against one of the cold, damp
pillars of the veranda, let the rain beat upon her bare
head, so that her hair was wet through.

At My princess is displeased , . , Lialitschka \ " said

S A N I N E 127

Riasantzeff, as he drew her closer to him, and lightly kissed
her moist, fragrant hair.

At this touch, so intimate and familiar, something
seemed to melt in Lialia's breast, and without knowing
what she did, she flung her arms round her lover's strong
neck as, amid a shower of kisses, she murmured :

" I am very, very angry with you ! You're a bad
man ! "

All the while she kept thinking that after all there was
nothing so bad, or awful, or irreparable as she had sup-
posed. What did it matter ? All that she wanted was
to love and be loved by this big, handsome man.

Afterwards, at table, it was painful to her to notice
Yourii's look of amazement, and, when the chance came,
she whispered to him, " It's awful of me, I know ! " at
which he only smiled awkwardly. Yourii was really
pleased that the matter should have ended happily
like this, while yet affecting to despise such an attitude
of bourgeois complacency and toleration. He withdrew
to his room, remaining there alone until the evening, and
as, before sunset, the sky grew clear, he took his gun,
intending to shoot in the same place where he and
Riasantzeff had been yesterday.

After the rain, the marsh seemed full of new life.
Many strange sounds were now audible, and the grasses
waved as if stirred by some secret vital force. Frogs
croaked lustily in a chorus ; now and again some birds
uttered a sharp discordant cry ; while at no great
distance, yet out of range, ducks could be heard cackling
in the wet reeds. Yourii, however, felt no desire to shoot,
but he shouldered his gun and turned homeward, listening
to sounds of crystalline clearness in the grey calm twilight.

" How beautiful ! " thought he. " All is beautiful ;
man alone is vile ! "

Far away he saw the little fire burning in the melon-
field, and ere long by its light he recognized the faces of
Kousma and Saninc.

" What does he always come here for ? " thought Yourii,
surprised and curious.

Seated by the fire, Kousma was telling a story, laughing

128 S A N I N E

and gesticulating meanwhile. Sanine was laughing, too.
The fire burned with a slender flame, as that of a taper,
the light being rosy, not red as at night-time, while over-
head, in the blue dome of heaven, the first stars glittered.
There was an odour of fresh mould and rain-drenched
grass.

For some reason or other Yourii felt afraid lest they
should see him, yet at the same time it saddened him to
think that he could not join them. Between himself and
them there seemed to be a barrier incomprehensible and
yet unreal ; a space devoid of atmosphere, a gulf that
could never be bridged.

This sense of utter isolation depressed him greatly. He
was alone ; from this world with its vesper lights and
hues, and fires, and stars, and human sounds, he stood
aloof and apart, as though shut close within a dark room.
So distressful was this sense of solitude, that as he crossed
the melon-field where hundreds of melons were growing
in the gloom, to him they seemed like human skulls that
lay strewn upon the ground.

XVI

Summer now came on, abounding in light and warmth.
Between the luminous blue heaven and the sultry earth
there floated a tremulous veil of golden haze. Exhausted
with the heat, the trees seemed asleep ; their leaves,
drooping and motionless, cast short, transparent shadows
on the parched, arid turf. Indoors it was cool. Pale green
reflections from the garden quivered on the ceiling, and
while everything else stirred not, the curtains by the
window waved.

His linen jacket all unbuttoned, Sarudine slowly
paced up and down the room languidly smoking a cigarette
and displaying his large white teeth. Tanaroff, in just
his shirt and riding-breeches, lay at full length on the
sofa, furtively watching Sarudine with his little black
eyes. He was in urgent need of fifty roubles, and had
already asked his friend twice for them. He did not
venture to do this a third time, and so was anxiously
waiting to see if Sarudine himself would return to the
subject. The latter had not forgotten by any means,
but, having gambled away seven hundred roubles last
month, begrudged any further outlay.

" He already owes me two hundred and fifty," thought
he, as he glanced at Tanaroff in passing. Then, more
irritably, " It's astonishing, upon my word ! Of course
we're good friends, and all that, but I wonder that he's
not the least bit ashamed of himself. He might at any
rate make some excuse for owing me all that money.
No, I won't lend him another penny," he thought
maliciously.

The orderly now entered the room, a little freckled
fellow who in slow, clumsy fashion stood at attention,
and, without looking at Sarudine, said,

" If you please, sir, you asked for beer, but there isn't
any more."

Sarudine's face grew red, as involuntarily he glanced
at Tanaroff.

129 i

130 S A N I N E

" Well, this is really a bit too much ! " he thought.
" He knows that I am hard up, yet beer has to be sent
for."

" There's very little vodka left, either," added the
soldier.

" All right ! Damn you ! You've still got a couple
of roubles. Go and buy what is wanted."

" Please, sir, I haven't got any money at all."

" How's that ? What do you mean by lying ? " ex-
claimed Sarudine, stopping short.

" If you please, sir, I was told to pay the washerwoman
one rouble and seventy copecks, which I did, and I put
the other thirty copecks on the dressing-table, sir."

" Yes, that's right," said Tanaroff, with assumed
carelessness of manner, though blushing for very shame,
" I told him to do that yesterday . . . the woman had
been worrying me for a whole week, don't you know."

Two red spots appeared on Sarudine 's scrupulously
shaven cheeks, and the muscles of his face worked con-
vulsively. He silently resumed his walk up and down
the room and suddenly stopped in front of Tanaroff.

" Look here," he said, and his voice trembled with
anger, " I should be much obliged if, in future, you
would leave me to manage my own money-affairs."

Tanaroff's face flushed crimson.

" H'm ! A trifle like that ! " he muttered, shrugging
his shoulders.

"It is not a question of trifles," continued Sarudine,
bitterly, "it is the principle of the thing. May I ask
what right you ..."

"I . . ." stammered Tanaroff.

" Pray don't explain," said Sarudine, in the same
cutting tone. " I must beg you not to take such a
liberty again."

Tanaroff's lips quivered. He hung his head, and ner-
vously fingered his mother-of-pearl cigarette-holder.
After a moment's pause, Sarudine turned sharply
round, and, jingling the keys loudly, opened the drawer
of his bureau.

" There ! go and buy what is wanted ! " he said

S A N I N E 131

irritably, but in a calmer tone, as he handed the soldier
a hundred-rouble note.

" Very good, sir," replied the soldier, who saluted
and withdrew.

Sarudine pointedly locked his cash-box and shut the
drawer of the bureau. Tanaroff had just time to glance
at the box containing the fifty roubles which he
needed so much, and then, sighing, lit a cigarette. He
felt deeply mortified, yet he was afraid to show this,
lest Sarudine should become more angry.

" What are two roubles to him ? " he thought, " He
knows very well that I am hard up."

Sarudine continued walking up and down obviously
irritated, but gradually growing calmer. When the
servant brought in the beer, he drank off a tumbler of the
ice-cold foaming beverage with evident gusto. Then
as he sucked the end of his moustache, he said, as if
nothing had happened.

" Lida came again to see me yesterday. A fine
girl, I tell you ! As hot as they make them."

Tanaroff, still smarting, made no reply.

Sarudine, however, did not notice this, and slowly
crossed the room, his eyes laughing as if at some secret
recollection. His strong, healthy organism, enervated by
the heat, was the more sensible to the influence of exciting
thought. Suddenly he laughed, a short laugh ; it was
as if he had neighed. Then he stopped.

" You know yesterday I tried to . . ." (here he used a
coarse, and in reference to a woman, a most humiliating,
expression) " She jibbed a bit, at first ; that wicked look
in her eyes ; you know the sort of thing ! "

His animal instincts roused in their turn, Tanaroff
grinned Iecherously.

" But afterwards, it was all right ; never had such a
time in my life ! " said Sarudine, and he shivered at the
recollection.

" Lucky chap ! " exclaimed Tanaroff, enviously.

" Is Sarudine at home ? " cried a loud voice from the
street. " May we come in ? " It was Ivanoff.

Sarudine started, fearful lest his words about Lida

132 S A N I N E

Sanina should have been heard by some one else. But
Ivanoff had hailed him from the roadway, and was not
even visible.

" Yes, yes, he's at home ! " cried Sarudine from the
window.

In the ante-room there was a noise of laughter and
clattering of feet, as if the house were being invaded by
a merry crowd. Then Ivanoff, Novikoff, Captain
Malinowsky, two other officers, and Sanine all appeared.

" Hurrah ! " cried Malinowsky, as he pushed his way
in. His face was purple, he had fat, flabby cheeks and
a moustache like two wisps of straw. " How are you,
boys ? "

" Bang goes another twenty-five-rouble note ! "
thought Sarudine with some irritation.

As he was mainly anxious, however, not to lose his
reputation for being a wealthy, open-handed fellow, he
exclaimed, smiling,

" Hallo ! Where are you all going ? Here ! Tcherepanoff
get some vodka, and whatever's wanted. Run across
to the club and order some beer. You would like some
beer, gentlemen, eh ? A hot day like this ? "

When beer and vodka had been brought, the din grew
greater. All were laughing, and shouting and drinking,
apparently bent on making as much noise as possible.
Only Novikoff seemed moody and depressed ; his good-
tempered face wore an evil expression.

It was not until yesterday that he had discovered what
the whole town had been talking about ; and at first a
sense of humiliation and jealousy utterly overcame him.

" It's impossible ! It's absurd ! Silly gossip ! " he said
to himself, refusing to believe that Lida, so fair, so proud,
so unapproachable, Lida whom he so deeply loved, could
possibly have scandalously compromised herself with
such a creature as Sarudine whom he looked upon as
infinitely inferior and more stupid than himself. Then
wild, bestial jealousy took possession of his soul. He
had moments of the bitterest despair, and anon he was
consumed by fierce hatred of Lida, and specially of
Sarudine. To his placid, indolent temperament this

S A N I N E 133

feeling was so strange that it craved an outlet. All
night long he had pitied himself, even thinking of suicide,
but when morning came he only longed with a wild,
inexplicable longing to set eyes upon Sarudine.

Now amid the noise and drunken laughter, he sat
apart, drinking mechanically glass after glass, while
intently watching every movement of Sarudine's, much
as some wild beast in a wood watches another wild beast,
pretending to see nothing, yet ever ready to spring.
Everything about Sarudine, his smile, his white teeth,
his good looks, his voice, were for Novikoff, all so many
daggers thrust into an open wound.

" Sarudine," said a tall lean officer with exceptionally
long, unwieldy arms, "I've brought you a book."

Above the general clamour Novikoff instantly caught
the name, Sarudine, and the sound of his voice, as well,
all other voices seeming mute.

" What sort of book ? "

"It's about women, by Tolstoi," replied the lanky
officer, raising his voice as if he were making a report.
On his long sallow face there was a look of evident pride
at being able to read and discuss Tolstoi.

" Do you read Tolstoi ? " asked Ivanoff, who had noticed
this naively complacent expression.

"Von Deitz is mad about Tolstoi," exclaimed
Malinowsky, with a loud guffaw.

Sarudine took the slender red-covered pamphlet,
and, turning over a few pages, said,

" Is it interesting ? "

" You'll see for yourself," replied Von Deitz with
enthusiasm. " There's a brain for you, my word !
It's just as if one had known it all one's self ! "

" But why should Victor Serge jevitsch read Tolstoi
when he has his own special" views concerning women ? "
nsked Novikoff, in a low tone, not taking his eyes off
his glass.

" What makes you think that ? " rejoined Sarudine
warily, scenting an attack,

Novikoff was silent. With all that was in him, he
longed to hit Sarudine full in the face, that pretty self-

134 S A N I N E

satisfied-looking face, to fling him to the ground, and
kick him, in a blind fury of passion. But the words
that he wanted would not come ; he knew, and it tortured
him the more to know, that he was saying the wrong
thing, as with a sneer, he replied.

" It is enough to look at you, to know that."

The strange, menacing tone of his voice produced a
sudden lull, almost as if a murder had been committed.
Ivanoff guessed what was the matter.

" It seems to me that ..." began Sarudine coldly.
His manner had changed somewhat, though he did not
lose his self-control.

" Come, come, gentlemen ! What's the matter ? "
cried Ivanoff.

" Don't interfere ! Let them fight it out ! " interposed
Sanine, laughing.

" It does not seem, but it is so ! " said Novikoff, in the
same tone, his eyes still fixed on his glass.

Instantly, as it were, a living wall rose up between
the rivals, amid much shouting, waving of arms, and
expressions of amusement or of surprise. Sarudine
was held back by Malinowsky and Von Deitz, while
Ivanoff and the other officers kept Novikoff in check.
Ivanoff filled up the glasses, and shouted out something,
addressing no one in particular. The gaiety was now
forced and insincere, and Novikoff felt suddenly that he
must get away.

He could bear it no longer. Smiling foolishly, he turned
to Ivanoff and the officers who were trying to engage his
attention.

" What is the matter with me?" he thought, half-
dazed. " I suppose I ought to strike him . . . rush at
him, and give him one in the eye ! Otherwise, I shall
look such a fool, for they must all have guessed that I
wanted to pick a quarrel. ..."

But, instead of doing this, he pretended to be interested
in what Ivanoff and Von Deitz were saying.

" As regards women, I don't altogether agree with
Tolstoi," said the officer complacently.

" A woman's just a female," replied Ivanoff. " In

S A N I N E 135

every thousand men you might find one worthy to be
called a man. But women, bah ! They're all alike —
just little naked, plump, rosy apes without tails ! "

44 Rather smart, that ! " said Von Deitz, approvingly.

" And true, too," thought Novikoff, bitterly.

" My dear fellow," continued Ivanoff, waving his hands
close to the other's nose, " I'll tell you what, if you were
to go to people and say, * Whatsoever woman looketh
on a man to lust after him hath committed adultery with
him already in her heart,' most of them would probably
think that you had made a most original remark."

Von Deitz burst into a fit of hoarse laughter that
sounded like the barking of a dog. He had not under-
stood Ivanoff 's joke, but felt sorry not to have made it
himself.

Suddenly Novikoff held out his hand to him.

" What ? Are you off ? " asked Von Deitz in surprise,

Novikoff made no reply.

" Where are you going ? " asked Sanine.

Still Novikoff was silent. He felt that in another
moment the grief pent up within his bosom must break
forth in a flood of tears.

" I know what's wrong with you," said Sanine. " Spit
on it all ! "

Novikoff glanced piteously at him. His lips trembled
and with a deprecating gesture, he silently went out,
feeling utterly overcome at his own helplessness. To
soothe himself, he thought :

44 Of what good would it have been to hit that black-
guard in the face ? It would have only led to a stupid
fight. Better not soil my hands ! "

But the sense of jealously unsatisfied and of utter
impotence still oppressed him, and he returned home
in deep dejection. Flinging himself on his bed, he buried
his face in the pillows and lay thus almost the whole
day long, bitterly conscious that he could do nothing.

44 Shall we play makao ? " asked Malinowsky,

44 All right ! " said Ivanoff.

The orderly at once opened the card-table and gaily
the green cloth beamed upon them all. Malinowsky's

136 S A N I N E

suggestion had roused the company, and he now began
to shuffle the cards with his short, hairy fingers. The
bright coloured cards were now scattered circle-wise on
the green table, as the chink of silver roubles was heard
after each deal, while on all sides fingers like spiders
closed greedily on the coin. Only brief, hoarse ejacula-
tions were audible, expressing either vexation or pleasure.
Sarudine had no luck. He obstinately made a point
of staking fifteen roubles, and lost every time. His
handsome face wore a look of extreme irritation. Last
month he had gambled away seven hundred roubles, and
now there was all this to add to his previous loss. His ill-
humour was contagious, for soon between Von Deitz and
Malinowsky there was an interchange of high words.

" I have staked on the side, there ! " exclaimed Von
Deitz irritably.

It amazed him that this drunken boor, Malinowsky,
should dare to dispute with such a clever, accomplished
person as himself.

" Oh ! so you say ! " replied Malinowsky, rudely.
" Damnation, take it ! when I win, then you tell me
you've staked on the side, and when I lose ..."

" I beg your pardon," said Von Deitz, dropping his
Russian accent, as he was wont to do when angry.

" Pardon be hanged ! Take back your stake ! No !
No ! Take it back, I say ! "

" But let me tell you, sir, that ..."

" Good God, gentlemen ! what the devil does all this
mean ? " shouted Sarudine, as he flung down his cards.

At this juncture a new comer appeared in the doorway,
Sarudine was ashamed of his own vulgar outburst, and
of his noisy, drunken guests, with their cards and bottles,
for the whole scene suggested a low tavern.

The visitor was tall and thin, and wore a loosely-
fitting white suit, and an extremely high collar. He stood
on the threshold amazed, endeavouring to recognize
Sarudine.

" Hallo ! Pavel Lvovitsch ! What brings you here ? "
cried Sarudine, as, crimson with annoyance, he advanced
to greet him.

S A N I N E 137

The newcomer entered in hesitating fashion, and the
eyes of all were fixed on his dazzlingly white shoes picking
their way through the beer-bottles, corks and cigarette-
ends. So white and neat and scented was he, that,
in all these clouds of smoke, and amid all these flushed,
drunken fellows, he might have been likened to a lily in the
marsh, had he not looked so frail and worn-out, and if his
features had not been so puny, nor his teeth so decayed
under his scanty, red moustache.

" Where have you come from ? Have you been away
a long while from Pitjer ? " * said Sarudine, somewhat
flurried, as he feared that " Pitjer " was not exactly the
word which he ought to have used.

" I only got here yesterday," said the gentleman in
white, in a determined tone, though his voice sounded
like the suppressed crowing of a cock. " My comrades,"
said Sarudine, introducing the others. " Gentlemen,
this is Mr. Pavel Lvovitsch Volochine."

Volochine bowed slightly.

" We must make a note of that ! " observed the tipsy
Ivanoff, much to Sarudine's horror.

" Pray sit down, Pavel Lvovitsch. Would you like
some wine or some beer ? "

Volochine sat down carefully in an arm-chair and his
white, immaculate form stood out sharply against the
dingy oil-cloth cover.

" Please don't trouble. I just came to see you for a
moment," he said, somewhat coldly, as he surveyed the
company.

" How's that ? I'll send for some white wine. You
like white wine, don't you ? "L asked Sarudine, and he
hurried out.

" Why on earth does the fool want to come here to-
day ? " he thought, irritably, as he sent the orderly to
fetch wine. "This Volochine will say such things
about me in Petersburg that I shan't be able to get a
footing in any decent house."

M» an while Volochine was taking stock of the others
with undisguised curiosity, feeling that he himself was
* A slang term for St. Petersburg.

138 S A N I N E

immeasurably superior. There was a look in his little
glassy, grey eyes of unfeigned interest, as if he were being
shown a collection of wild beasts. He was specially
attracted by Sanine's height, his powerful physique, and
his dress.

" An interesting type, that ! He must be pretty strong !"
he thought, with the genuine admiration of the weakling
for the athlete. In fact, he began to speak to Sanine
but the latter, leaning against the window-sill, was looking
out at the garden. Volochine stopped short ; the very
sound of his own squeaky voice vexed him.

" Hooligans Iм he thought.

At this moment Sarudine came back. He sat down
next to Volochine and asked questions about St. Peters-
burg, and also about the latter' s factory, so as to let the
others know what a very wealthy and important person
his visitor was. The handsome face of this sturdy
animal now wore an expression of petty vanity and
self-importance.

" Everything's the same with us, just the same ! "
replied Volochine, in a bored tone of voice. " How is it
with you ? "

" Oh ! I'm just vegetating," said Sarudine with a
mournful sigh.

Volochine was silent, and looked up disdainfully at the
ceiling where the green reflections from the garden
wavered.

" Our one and only amusement is this," continued
Sarudine, as with a gesture he indicated the cards,
the bottles, and his guests.

" Yes, yes ! " drawled Volochine ; to Sarudine his
tone seemed to say, " and you're no better, either."

" I think I must be going now. I'm staying at the hotel
on the boulevard. I may see you again ! " Volochine
rose to take his leave.

At this moment the orderly entered and saluting in
slovenly fashion, said,

" The young lady is there, sir."

Sarudine started. " What ? " he cried.

" She has come, sir."

S A N I N E 139

"Ah! yes, I know," said Sarudine. He glanced
about him nervously, feeling a sudden presentiment.

" I wonder if it's Lida ? " he thought. " Impossible ! "

Volochine's inquisitive eyes twinkled. His puny
little body in its loose white clothes seemed to acquire
new vitality.

" Well, good-bye ! " he said, laughing. " Up to your
old tricks, as usual ! Ha ! Ha ! "

Sarudine smiled uneasily, as he accompanied his visitor
to the door, and with a parting stare the latter in his
immaculate shoes hurried off.

" Now, sirs," said Sarudine, on his return, " how's
the game going ? Take the bank for me, will you,
Tanaroff ? I shall be back directly." He spoke hastily ;
his eyes were restless.

" That's a lie ! " growled the drunken, bestial Malinow-
sky. " We mean to have a good look at that young
lady of yours."

Tanaroff seized him by the shoulders and forced him
back into his chair. The others hurriedly resumed
their places at the card-table, not looking at Sarudine.
Sanine also sat down, but there was a certain seriousness
in his smile. He had guessed that it was Lida who had
come, and a vague sense of jealousy and pity was roused
within him for his handsome sister, now obviously in
great distress.

XVII

Sideways, on Sarudine's bed, sat Lida, in despair,
convulsively twisting her handkerchief. As he came in
he was struck by her altered appearance. Of the proud,
high-spirited girl there was not a trace. He now saw
before him a dejected woman, broken by grief, with
sunken cheeks and lifeless eyes. These dark eyes
instantly met his, and then as swiftly shunned his gaze.
Instinctively he knew that Lida feared him, and a feeling
of intense irritation suddenly arose within him. Closing
the door with a bang, he walked straight up to her.

" You really are a most extraordinary person," he
began, with difficulty checking his fierce wish to strike
her. u Here am I, with a room full of people ; your
brother's there, too ! Couldn't you have chosen some other
time to come ? Upon my word, it is too provoking ! "

From the dark eyes there shot such a strange flash
that Sarudine quailed. His tone changed. He smiled,
showing his white teeth, and taking Lida's hand, sat
down beside her on the bed.

" Well, well, it doesn't matter. I was only anxious
on your account. I am ever so glad that you've come.
I was longing to see you."

Sarudine raised her hot, perfumed little hand to his
lips, and kissed it just above the glove.

" Is that the truth ? " asked Lida. The curious tone
of her voice surprised him. Again she looked up at him,
and her eyes said plainly, "Is it true that you love me ?
You see how wretched I am, now. Not like I was once.
I am afraid of you, and I feel all the humiliation of my
present state, but I have no one except you that can help
me."

" How can you doubt it ? " replied Sarudine. The
words sounded insincere, almost cold.

Again he took her hand and kissed it. He was en-
tangled in a strange coil of sensations and of thoughts.
Only two days ago on this very pillow had lain the dark

140

S A N I N E 141

tresses of Lida's dishevelled hair as he held her in his
arms and their lips had met in a frenzy of passion un-
controlled. In that moment of desire the whole world
and all his countless sensuous schemes of enjoyment with
other women seemed realized and attained ; the desire
in deliberate and brutal fashion deeply to wrong this
nature placed by passion within his power. And now,
all at once, his feeling for her was one of loathing. He
would have liked to thrust her from him ; he wished never
to see her or hear her again. So overpowering was this
desire, that to sit beside her became positive torture.
At the same time a vague dread of her deprived him of
will-power and forced him to remain. He was perfectly
aware that there was nothing whatever to bind him to her,
and that it was with her own consent that he had possessed
her, without any promise on his part. Each had given
just as each had taken. Nevertheless he felt as if caught
in some sticky substance from which he could not free
himself. He foresaw that Lida would make some claim
upon him, and that he must either consent, or else commit
a base, vile act. He appeared to be as utterly powerless
as if the bones had been removed from his legs and arms,
and as if, instead of a tongue in his mouth, there were a
moist rag. He wanted to shout at her, and let her know
once for all that she had no right to ask anything of him,
but his heart was benumbed by craven fear, and to his
lips there rose a senseless phrase which he knew to be
absolutely unfitting.

" Oh ! women, women ! "

Lida looked at him in horror. A pitiless light seemed
to flash across her mind. In one instant she realized that
she was lost. What she had given that was noble and
pure, she had given to a man that did not exist. Her
fair young life, her purity, her pride, had all been flung
at the feet of a base, cowardly brute who instead of being
grateful to her had merely soiled her by acts of coarse
lubricity. For a moment she felt ready to wring her
hands and fall to the ground in an agony of despair, but
lightning-swift her mood changed to one of revenge and
bitter hatred.

142 S A N I N E

" Can't you really see how intensely stupid you are ? "
she hissed through her clenched teeth, as she looked
straight into his eyes.

The insolent words and the look of hatred were so
unsuited to Lida, gracious, feminine Lida, that Sarudine
instinctively recoiled. He had not quite understood
their import, and sought to pass them by with a jest.

" What words to use ! " he said, surprised and annoyed.

" I'm not in a mood to choose my words," replied Lida
bitterly, as she wrung her hands. Sarudine frowned.

" Why all these tragic airs ? " he asked. Uncon-
sciously allured by their beauty of outline, he glanced at
her soft shoulders and exquisitely moulded arms. Her
gesture of helplessness and despair made him feel sure
of his superiority. It was as if they were being weighed
in scales, one sinking when the other rose. Sarudine
felt a cruel pleasure in knowing that this girl whom
instinctively he had considered superior to himself was
now made to suffer through him. In the first stage of
their intimacy he had feared her. Now she had been
brought to shame and dishonour ; at which he was glad.

He grew softer. Gently he took her strengthless hands
in his, and drew her closer to him. His senses were
roused ; his breath came quicker.

" Never mind ! It'll be all right ! There is nothing so
dreadful about it, after all ! "

" So you think, eh ? " replied Lida scornfully. It was
scorn that helped her to recover herself, and she gazed
at him with strange intensity.

"Why, of course I do," said Sarudine, attempting to
embrace her in a way that he knew to be effective. But
she remained cold and lifeless.

" Come, now, why are you so cross, my pretty one ? "
he murmured in a gentle tone of reproof.

" Let me go ! Let me go, I say ! " exclaimed Lida, as
she shook him off. Sarudine felt physically hurt that
his passion should have been roused in vain.

" Women are the very devil ! " he thought.

" What's the matter with you ? " he asked testily, and
his face flushed.

S A N I N E 143

As if the question had brought something to her mind,
she suddenly covered her face with both hands and burst
into tears. She wept just as peasant- women weep,
sobbing loudly, her face buried in her hands, her body
being bent forward, while her dishevelled hair drooped
over her wet, distorted countenance. Sarudine was
utterly nonplussed. He smiled, though yet afraid that this
might give offence, and tried to pull away her hands from
her face. Lida stubbornly resisted, weeping all the while.

" Oh ! my God ! " he exclaimed. He longed to shout
at her, to wrench her hands aside, to call her hard names.

" What are you whining for like this ? You've gone
wrong with me, worse luck, and there it is ! Why all this
weeping just to-day ? For heaven's sake, stop ! " Speak-
ing thus roughly, he caught hold of her hand.

The jerk caused her head to oscillate to and fro. She
suddenly stopped crying, and removed her hands from
her tear-stained face, looking up at him in childish fear.
A crazy thought flashed through her mind that anybody
might strike her now. But Sarudine's manner again
softened, and he said in a consoling voice :

" Come, my Lidotschka, don't cry any more ! You're
to blame, as well ! Why make a scene ? You've lost a
lot, I know ; but, still, we had so much happiness, too,
didn't we ? And we must just forget. ..."

Lida began to sob once more.

" Oh ! stop it, do ! " he shouted. Then he walked
across the room, nervously pulling his moustache, and
his lips quivered.

In the room it was quite still. Outside the window
the slender boughs of a tree swayed gently, as if a bird
had just perched thereon. Sarudine, endeavouring to
check himself, approached Lida, and gently placed his
arm round her waist. But she instantly broke away
from him and in so doing struck him violently on the chin,
so that his teeth rattled.

" Devil take it ! " he exclaimed angrily. It hurt him
considerably, and the droll sound of his rattling teeth
annoyed him even more. Lida had not heard this, yet
instinctively she felt that Sarudine's position was a

144 ' ' S A N I N E

ridiculous one, and with feminine cruelty she took
advantage of it.

" What words to use ! " she said, imitating him.

"It's enough to make any one furious," replied
Sarudine peevishly.

" If only I knew what was the matter ! "

" You mean to say that you still don't know ? " said
Lida in a cutting tone.

There was a pause. Lida looked hard at him, her face
red as fire. Sarudine turned pale, as if suddenly covered
by a grey veil.

" Well, why are you silent ? Why don't you speak ?
Speak ! Say something to comfort me ! " she shrieked,
her voice becoming hysterical in tone. The very sound
of it alarmed her.

" I . . ." began Sarudine, and his under-lip quivered.

" Yes, you, and nobody else but you, worse luck ! "
she screamed, almost stifled with tears of rage and of
despair.

From him as from her the mask of comeliness and good
manners had fallen. The wild untrammelled beast
became increasingly evident in each.

Ideas like scurrying mice rushed through Sarudine's
mind. His first thought was to give Lida money, and
persuade her to get rid of the child. He must break with
her at once, and for ever. That would end the whole
business. Yet though he considered this to be the best
way, he said nothing.

" I really never thought that . . ."he stammered.

" You never thought ! " exclaimed Lida wildly. " Why
didn't you ? What right had you not to think ? "

" But, Lida, I never told you that I . . ."he faltered,
feeling afraid of what he was going to say, yet conscious
that he would yet do so, all the same.

Lida, however, had understood, without waiting for
him to speak. Her beautiful face grew dark, distorted
by horror and despair. Her hands fell limply to her side
as she sat down on the bed.

" What shall I do ? " she said, as if thinking aloud.
44 Drown myself? "

S A N I N E 145

" No, no ! Don't talk like that ! "

Lida looked hard at him.

" Do you know, Victor Serge jevitsch, I feel pretty sure
that such a thing would not displease you," she said.

In her eyes and in her pretty quivering mouth there
was something so sad, so pitiful, that Sarudine involun-
tarily turned away.

Lida rose. The thought, consoling at first, that she
would find in him her saviour with whom she would
always live, now inspired her with horror and loathing.
She longed to shake her fist at him, to fling her scorn in
his face, to revenge herself on him for having humiliated
her thus. But she felt that at the very first words she
would burst into tears. A last spark of pride, all that
remained of the handsome, dashing Lida, deterred her.
In a tone of such intense scorn that it surprised herself
as much as Sarudine, she hissed out,

" You brute ! "

Then she rushed out of the room, tearing the lace
trimming of her sleeve which caught on the bolt of the
door.

Sarudine flushed to the roots of his hair. Had she
called him " wretch," or "villain," he could have borne
that calmly, but " brute " was such a coarse word so
absolutely opposed to his conception of his own engaging
personality, that it utterly stunned him. Even the whites
of his eyes became bloodshot. He sniggered uneasily,
shrugged his shoulders, buttoned and then unbuttoned
his jacket, feeling thoroughly upset. But simul-
taneously a sense of satisfaction and relief waxed greater
within him. All was at an end. It irked him to think
that he would never again possess such a woman as Lida,
that he had lost so comely and desirable a mistress. But
he dismissed all such regret with a gesture of disdain.

" Devil take the lot ! I can get hold of as many as I
please ! "

He put his jacket straight, and, his lips still quivering,
lit a cigarette. Then assuming his wonted air of non-
chalance, he returned to his guests.

XVIII

All the gamblers except the drunken Malinowsky had
lost their interest in the game. They were intensely
curious to know who the lady was that had come to see
Sarudine. Those who guessed that it wasLida Sanina
felt instinctively jealous, picturing to themselves her
white body in Sarudine's embrace. After a while Sanine
got up from the table and said :

" I shall not play any more. Good-bye."

" Wait a minute, my friend, where are you going ? "
asked Ivanoff.

" I'm going to see what they are about, in there," replied
Sanine, pointing to the closed door.

" Don't be a fool ! Sit down and have a drink ! " said
Ivanoff.

" You're the fool ! " rejoined Sanine, as he went out.

On reaching a narrow side-street where nettles grew
in profusion, Sanine bethought himself of the exact spot
which Sarudine's windows overlooked. Carefully tread-
ing down the nettles, he climbed the wall. When on the
top, he almost forgot why he had got up there at all, so
charming was it to look down on the green grass and the
pretty garden, and to feel the soft breeze blowing pleasantly
on his hot, muscular limbs. Then he dropped down into
the nettles on the other side, irritably rubbing the places
where they had stung him. Crossing the garden, he
reached the window just as Lida said :

" You mean to say that you still don't know ? "

By the strange tone of her voice Sanine instantly
guessed what was the matter. Leaning against the wall
and looking at the garden, he eagerly listened. He felt
pity for his handsome sister for whose beautiful person-
ality the gross term " pregnant " seemed so unfitting.
What impressed him even more than the conversation
was the singular contrast between these furious human
voices and the sweet silence of the verdurous garden.

A white butterfly fluttered across the grass, revelling

146

S A N I N E 147

in the sunlight. Sanine watched its progress just as
intently as he listened to the talking.

When Lida exclaimed :

" You brute ! " Sanine laughed merrily, and slowly
crossed the garden, careless as to who should see him.

A lizard darted across his path, and for a long while he
followed the swift movements of its little supple green
body in the long grass.

XIX

Lida did not go home, but hurriedly turned her steps in
an opposite direction. The streets were empty, the air
stifling. Close to the wall and fence lay the short shadows,
vanquished by the triumphant sun. Through mere force
of habit, Lida opened her parasol. She never noticed if
it was cold or hot, light or dark. She walked swiftly
past the fences all dusty and overgrown with weeds, her
head bowed, her eyes downcast. Now and again she met
a few gasping pedestrians half-suffocated by the heat.
Over the town lay silence, the oppressive silence of a
summer afternoon.

A little white puppy had followed Lida. After eagerly
sniffing her dress, it ran on in front, and, looking round,
wagged its tail, as if to say that they were comrades. At
the corner of a street stood a funny little fat boy, a portion
of whose shirt peeped out at the back of his breeches.
With cheeks distended and fruit-stained, he was
vigorously blowing a wooden pipe.

Lida beckoned to the little puppy and smiled at the
boy. Yet she did so almost unconsciously ; her soul
was imprisoned. An obscure force, separating her from
the world, swept her onward, past the sunlight, the verdure,
and all the joy of life, towards a black gulf that by the
dull anguish within her she knew to be near.

An officer of her acquaintance rode by. On seeing
Lida he reined in his horse, a roan, whose glossy coat shone
in the sunlight.

" Lidia Petrovna ! " he cried, in a pleasant, cheery
voice, " Where are you going in all this heat ? "

Mechanically her eyes glanced at his forage-cap,
jauntily poised on his moist, sunburnt brow. She did not
speak, but merely smiled her habitual, coquettish smile.

At that moment, ignorant herself as to what might
happen, she echoed his question :

" Ah ! where, indeed ? "

She no longer felt angry with Sarudine. Hardly

148

S A N I N E 149

knowing why she had gone to him, for it seemed im-
possible to live without him, or bear her grief alone. Yet
now it was as if he had just vanished from her life. The
past was dead. That which remained concerned her
alone ; and as to that she alone could decide.

Her brain worked with feverish haste, her thoughts
being yet clear and plain. The most dreadful thing was,
that the proud, handsome Lida would disappear, and in
her stead there would be a wretched being, persecuted,
besmirched, defenceless. Pride and beauty must be
retained. Therefore, she must go, she must get away
to some place where the mud could not touch her.

This fact clearly established, Lida suddenly imagined
herself encircled by a void ; life, sunlight, human beings,
no longer existed ; she was alone in their midst, abso-
lutely alone. There was no escape ; she must die, she
must drown herself. In a moment this became such a
certainty that it was as if round her a wall of stone had
arisen to shut her off from all that had been, and from all
that might be.

" How simple it really is ! " she thought, looking round,
yet seeing nothing.

She walked faster now ; and though hindered by her
wide skirts, she almost ran, it seemed to her as if her
progress were intolerably slow.

" Here's a house, and yonder there's another one,
with green shutters ; and then, an open space."

The river, the bridge, and what was to happen there —
she had no clear conception of this. It was as a cloud,
a mist that covered all. But such a state of mind only
lasted until she reached the bridge.

As she leant over the parapet and saw the greenish,
turbid water, her confidence instantly forsook her. She
was seized with fear and a wild desire to live. Now her
perception of living things came back to her. She heard
voices, and the twittering of sparrows ; she saw the
sunlight, the daisies in the grass, and the little white dog,
that evidently looked upon her as his rightful mistress.
It sat opposite to her, put up a tiny paw, and beat the
ground with its tail.

150 S A N I N E

Lida gazed at it, longing to hug it convulsively, and
large tears rilled her eyes. Infinite regret for her beautiful,
ruined life overcame her. Half fainting, she leant for-
ward, over the edge of the sun-baked parapet, and the
sudden movement caused her to drop one of her gloves
into the water. In mute horror she watched it fall noise-
lessly on the smooth surface of the water, making large
circles. She saw her pale yellow glove become darker
and darker, and then filling slowly with water, and turning
over once, as in its death-agony, sink down gradually with
a spiral movement to the green depths of the stream.
Lida strained her eyes to mark its descent, but the yellow
spot grew ever smaller and more indistinct, and at last
disappeared. All that met her gaze was the smooth,
dark surface of the water.

" How did that happen, miss ? " asked a female voice,
close to her.

Lida started backwards, and saw a fat, snub-nosed
peasant-woman who looked at her with sympathetic
curiosity.

Although such sympathy was only intended for the
lost glove, to Lida it seemed as if the good-natured, fat
woman knew all, and pitied her. For a moment she was
minded to tell her the whole story, and thus gain some
relief, but she swiftly rejected the idea as foolish. She
blushed, and stammered out, " Oh, it's nothing ! " as
she reeled backwards from the bridge.

44 Here it's impossible ! They would pull me out ! "
she thought.

She walked farther along the river-bank and followed
a smooth foot-path to the left between the river and a
hedge. On either side were nettles and daisies, sheep's
parsley and ill-smelling garlic. Here it was calm and peace-
ful as in some village church. Tall willows bent dreamily
over the stream ; the steep, green banks were bathed in
sunlight ; tall burdocks flourished amid the nettles, and
prickly thistles became entangled in the lace trimming of
Lida's dress. One huge plant powdered her with its
white seeds.

Lida had now to force herself to go farther, striving to

SANINE 151

overcome a mighty power within which held her back.
" It must be ! It must ! It must ! " she repeated, as,
dragging herself along, her feet seemed to break their
bonds at every step which took her farther from the
bridge and nearer to the place at which unconsciously
she had determined to stop.

On reaching it, when she saw the black, cold water
underneath over-arching boughs, and the current swirling
past a corner of the steep bank, then she realized for the
first time how much she longed to live, and how awful
it was to die. Yet die she must, for to live on was im-
possible. Without looking round, she flung down her
other glove and her parasol, and, leaving the path, walked
through the tall grasses to the water. In that moment
a thousand thoughts passed through her brain. Deep in
her soul, where long it had lain dormant, her childish
faith awoke, as with simple fervour she repeated this
short prayer, " Lord, save me ! Lord, help me!" She
suddenly recollected the refrain of a song that latterly
she had been studying ; for an instant she thought of
Sarudine, and then she saw the face of her mother who
seemed doubly dear to her in this awful moment. Indeed it
was this last recollection which drove her faster to the river.
Never till then had Lida so keenly realized that her mother
and all those who loved her, did not love her for what
she really was, with all her defects and desires, but only
for that which they wished her to be. Now that she had
strayed from the path that according to them was the
only right one, these persons, and especially her mother,
having loved her much, would now prove proportionately
severe.

Then, as in a delirious dream, all became confused ; fear,
the longing to live, the sense of the inevitable, unbelief,
the conviction that all was at an end, hope, despair, the
horrible consciousness that this was the spot where she
must die, and then the vision of a man strangely like her
brother who leapt over a hedge and rushed towards her.

" You could not have thought of anything sillier ! "
cried Sanine, breathless.

By a strange coincidence it so happened that Lida had

152 SANINE

reached the very spot adjoining Sarudine's garden where
first she had surrendered to him, a place, screened by-
dark trees from the light of the moon. Sanine had seen
her in the distance, and had guessed her intention. At
first he was for letting her have her way, but her wild,
convulsive movements aroused his pity, and vaulting the
garden-seats and the bushes he hastened to her rescue.

Her brother's voice had an alarming effect upon Lida.
Her nerves, wrought to the utmost pitch by her inward
conflict, suddenly gave way. She became giddy ; every-
thing swam before her eyes, and she no longer knew if
she were in the water or on the river-bank. Sanine had
just time to seize her firmly and drag her backwards,
secretly pleased at his own strength and adroitness.

" There ! " he said.

He placed her in a sitting posture against the hedge,
and then looked about him.

" What shall I do with her ? " he thought. Lida in
that moment recovered consciousness, as pale and con-
fused, she began to weep piteously. " My God ! My
God ! " she sobbed, like a child.

" Silly thing ! " said Sanine, chiding her good-
humouredly.

Lida did not hear him, but, as he moved, she clutched
at his arm, sobbing more violently.

" Ah ! what am I doing ? " she thought fearfully.
44 1 ought not to weep ; I must try and laugh it off, or
else he'll guess what is wrong."

44 Well, why are you so upset ? " asked Sanine, as he
patted her shoulder tenderly.

Lida looked up at him under her hat, timidly as a child,
and stopped crying.

44 1 know all about it," said Sanine ; 44 the whole story.
I've done so for ever so long."

Though Lida was aware that several persons suspected
the nature of her relations with Sarudine, yet when
Sanine said this, it was as if he had struck her in the face.
Her supple form recoiled in horror ; she gazed at him
dry-eyed, like some wild animal at bay.

44 What's the matter, now ? You behave as if I had

S A N I N E 153

trodden on your foot," laughed Sanine. Taking hold of
her round, soft shoulders, which quivered at his touch,
he tenderly drew her back to her former place by the
hedge, and she obediently submitted.

" Come now, what is it that distresses you so ? " he
said. " Is it because I know all ? Or do you think your
misconduct with Sarudine so dreadful that you are
afraid to acknowledge it ? I really don't understand
you. But, if Sarudine won't marry you, well — that is
a thing to be thankful for. You know now, and you
must have known before, what a base, common fellow
he really is, in spite of his good looks and his fitness for
amours. All that he has is beauty, and you have now
had your fill of that."

" He of mine, not I of his ! " she faltered. " Ah ! well
yes, perhaps I had ! Oh ! my God, what shall I do ? "

" And now you are pregnant ..."

Lida shut her eyes and bowed her head.

" Of course, it's a bad business," continued Sanine,
gently. " In the first place, giving birth to children is a
nasty, painful affair ; in the second place, and what really
matters, people would persecute you incessantly. After
all, Lidotschka, my Lidotschka," he said with a sudden
access of affection, " you've not done harm to anybody ;
and, if you were to bring a dozen babies into the world, the
only person to suffer thereby would be yourself."

Sanine paused to reflect, as he folded his arms across
his chest and bit the ends of his moustache.

" I could tell you what you ought to do, but you are
too weak and too foolish to follow my advice. You are
not plucky enough. Anyhow, it is not worth while to
commit suicide. Look at the sun shining, at the calm,
flowing stream. Once dead, remember, every one would
know what your condition had been. Of what good,
then, would that be to you ? It is not because you are
pregnant that you want to die, but because you are
afraid of what other folk will say. The terrible part
of your trouble lies, not in the actual trouble itself, but
because you put it between yourself and your life which,
as you think, ought to end. But, in reality, that will

154 SANINE

not alter life a jot. You do not fear folk who are remote,
but those who are close to you, especially those who love
you and who regard your surrender as utterly shocking
because it was made in a wood, or a meadow, instead of in
a lawful marriage-bed. They will not be slow to punish
you for your offence, so, of what good are they to you ?
They are stupid, cruel, brainless people. Why should
you die because of stupid, cruel, brainless people ? "

Lida looked up at him with her great questioning eyes
in which Sanine could detect a spark of comprehension.

" But what am I to do ? Tell me, what . . . what . . ."
she murmured huskily.

" For you there are two ways open : you must get rid
of this child that nobody wants, and whose birth, as you
must see yourself, will only bring trouble."

Lida's eyes expressed wild horror.

" To kill a being that knows the joy of living and the
terror of death is a grave injustice," he continued ; " but
a germ, an unconscious mass of flesh and blood ..."

Lida experienced a strange sensation. At first shame
overwhelmed her, such shame as if she were completely
stripped, while brutal fingers touched her. She dared
not look at her brother, fearing that for very shame
they would both expire» But Sanine's grey eyes wore a
calm expression, and his voice was firm and even in tone,
as if he were talking of ordinary matters. It was this
quiet strength of utterance and the profound truth of
his words that removed Lida's shame and fear. Yet
suddenly despair prevailed, as she clasped her forehead,
while the flimsy sleeves of her dress fluttered like the
wings of a startled bird.

" I cannot, no, I cannot ! " she faltered, " I dare say
you're right, but I cannot ! It is so awful ! "

"Well, well, if you can't," said Sanine, as he knelt
down, and gently drew away her hands from her face,
" we must contrive to hide it, somehow. I will see to it
that Sarudine has to leave the town, and you — well,
you shall marry Novikoff, and be happy. I know that
if you had never met this dashing young officer, you would
have accepted Sascha Novikoff. I am certain of it."

SANINE 155

At the mention of Novikoff' s name Lida saw light
through the gloom. Because Sarudine had made her
unhappy, and she was convinced that Novikoff would
never have done so, for an instant it seemed to her that
all could easily be set right. She would at once get up,
go back, say something or other, and life in all its radiant
beauty would again lie before her. Again she would live,
again she would love, only this time it would be a better
life, a deeper, purer love. Yet immediately afterwards she
recollected that this was impossible, for she had been
soiled and degraded by an ignoble, senseless amour.

A gross word, which she scarcely knew and had never
uttered, suddenly came into her mind. She applied it to
herself. It was as if she had received a box on the ears.

" Great heavens ! Am I really a . . . ? Yes, yes, of
course, I am!"

" What did you say ? " she murmured, ashamed of
her own resonant voice.

" Well, what is it to be ? " asked Sanine, as he glanced
at her pretty hair falling in disorder about her white neck
flecked by sunlight breaking through the network of
leaves. A sudden fear seized him that he would not
succeed in persuading her, and that this young, beautiful
woman, fitted to bestow such joy upon others, might
vanish into the dark, senseless void. Lida was silent.
She strove to repress her longing to live, which, despite
her will, had mastered her whole trembling frame. After
all that had occurred, it seemed to her shameful not only
to live, but to wish to live. Yet her body, strong and full
of vitality, rejected so distorted an idea as if it were
poison.

" Why this silence ? " asked Sanine.

" Because it is impossible. ... It would be a vile
thing to do ! . . . I. . . ."

" Don't talk such nonsense ! " retorted Sanine im-
patiently.

Lida looked up at him again, and in her tearful eyes
there was a glimmer of hope.

Sanine broke off a twig, which he bit and then flung
away.

156 S A N I N E

" A vile thing ! " he went on, "A vile thing ! My words
amaze you. Yet why ? The question is one that neither
you nor I can ever rightly answer. Crime ! What is a
crime ? If a mother's life is in danger when giving birth
to a child, and that living child, to save its mother, is
destroyed that is not a crime, but an unfortunate necessity !
But to suppress something that does not yet exist, that
is called a crime, a horrible deed. Yes, a horrible deed,
even though the mother's life, and, what is more, her
happiness, depends upon it ! Why must it be so ?
Nobody knows, but everybody loudly maintains that
view, crying, " Bravo ! ■ " Sanine laughed sarcastically.
ц Oh ! you men, you men ! Men create for themselves
phantoms, shadows, illusions, and are the first to suffer
by them. But they all exclaim, t Oh ! Man is a master-
piece, noblest of all ; man is the crown, the King of
creation ; ' but a king that has never yet reigned, a
suffering king that quakes at his own shadow."

For a moment, Sanine paused.

" After all, that is not the main point. You say that
it is a vile thing. I don't know ; perhaps it is. If
Novikoff were to hear of your trouble, it would grieve
him terribly ; in fact, he might shoot himself, but yet
he would love you, just the same. In that case, the blame
would be his. But if he were a really intelligent man,
he would not attach the slightest importance to the fact
that you had already (excuse the expression !) slept with
somebody else. Neither your body nor your soul have
suffered thereby. Good Lord ! Why, he miglt marry
a widow himself, for instance ! Therefore it is not that
which prevents him, but the confused notions with which
his head is filled. And, as regards yourself, if it were
only possible for human beings to love once in their
lives, then, a second attempt to do so would certainly prove
futile and unpleasant. But this is not so. To fall in
love, or to be loved, is just as delightful and desirable.
You will get to love Novikoff, and, if you don't, well,
we'll travel together, my Lidotschka ; one can live, can't
one, anywhere, after all ? "

Lida sighed and strove to overcome her final scruples.

S A N I N E 157

" Perhaps . . . everything will come right again," she
murmured. " Novikoff . . . he's so good and kind . . .
nice-looking, too, isn't he ? Yes . , . no . . . I don't
know what to say."

" If you had drowned yourself, what then ? The powers
of good and evil would have neither gained nor lost thereby.
Your corpse, bloated, disfigured, and covered with slime,
would have been dragged from the river, and buried.
That would have been all ! "

Lida had a lurid vision of greenish, turbid water with
slimy, trailing weeds and gruesome bubbles floating
round her.

" No, no, never ! " she thought, turning pale. " I
would rather bear all the shame of it . . . and Novikoff
. . . everything . . . anything but that."

" Ah ! look how scared you are ! " said Sanine, laughing.

Lida smiled through her tears, and her very smile
consoled her.

" Whatever happens, I mean to live ! " she said with
passionate energy.

" Good ! " exclaimed Sanine, as he jumped up.
" Nothing is more awful than the thought of death. But
so long as you can bear the burden without losing per-
ception of the sights and sounds of life, I say live ! Am
I not right ? Now, give me your paw ! "

Lida held out her hand. The shy, feminine gesture
betokened childish gratitude.

" That's right . . . What a pretty little hand you've
got."

Lida smiled and said nothing.

But Sanine's words had not proved ineffectual. Hers
was a vigorous, buoyant vitality ; the crisis through
which she had just passed had strained that vitality
to the utmost. A little more pressure, and the string
would have snapped. But the pressure was not applied,
and her whole being vibrated once more with an im-
petuous, turbulent desire to live. She looked above,
around her, in ecstasy, listening to the immense joy
pulsating on every side ; in the sunlight, in the green
meadows, the shining stream, the calm, smiling face of

158 SANINE

her brother, and in herself. It was as if she now could
see and hear all this for the first time. " To be alive ! "
cried a gladsome voice within her.

" All right ! " said Sanine. " I will help you in your
trouble, and stand by you when you fight your battles.
And now, as you're such a beauty, you must give me a
kiss."

Lida smiled ; a smile mysterious as that of a wood-
nymph. Sanine put his arms round her waist, and, as
her warm supple form thrilled at his touch, his fond
embrace became almost vehement. A strange, indefinable
sense of joy overcame Lida, as she yearned for life ampler
and more intense. It mattered not to her what she did.
She slowly put both arms round her brother's neck and,
with half-closed eyes, set her lips tight to give the kiss.

She felt unspeakably happy beneath Sanine's burning
caress, and in that moment cared not who it was that
kissed her, just as a flower warmed by the sun never asks
whence comes such warmth.

" What is the matter with me ? " she thought, pleasur-
ably alarmed. " Ah ! yes ! I wanted to drown myself
. . . how silly ! And for what ? Oh ! that's nice !
Again ! Again ! Now, I'll kiss you ! It's lovely ! And
I don't care what happens so long as I'm alive, alive ! "

" There, now, you see," said Sanine, releasing her.
" All good things are just good, and one mustn't make
them out to be anything else."

Lida smiled absently, and slowly re-arranged her hair.
Sanine handed her the parasol and glove. To find the
other glove was missing at first surprised her, but in-
stantly recollecting the reason, she felt greatly amused
at the absurd importance which she had given to that
trifling incident.

" Ah ! well, that's over ! " she thought, and walked
with her brother along the river-bank. Fiercely the sun's
rays beat upon her round, ripe bosom.

XX

Novikoff, when he opened the door himself to Sanine,
looked far from pleased at the prospect of such a visit.
Everything that reminded him of Lida and of his shattered
dream of bliss caused him pain.

Sanine noticed this, and came into the room smiling
affably. All there was in disorder, as if scattered by a
whirlwind. Scraps of paper, straw, and rubbish of all
sorts covered the floor. On the bed and the chairs lay
books, linen, surgical instruments and a portmanteau.

" Going away ? " asked Sanine, in surprise. " Where ? "

Novikoff avoided the other's glance and continued to
overhaul the things, vexed at his own confusion. At
last he said :

" Yes, I've got to leave this place. I've had my
official notice."

Sanine looked at him and then at the portmanteau.
After another glance his features relaxed in a broad
smile.

Novikoff was silent, oppressed by his sense of utter
loneliness and his inconsolable grief. Lost in his thoughts,
he proceeded to wrap up a pair of boots together with
some glass tubes.

" If you pack like that," said Sanine, " when you
arrive you'll find yourself minus either tubes or boots."

Novikoff's tear-stained eyes flashed back a reply.
They said, " Ah ! leave me alone ! Surely you can see
how sad I am ! "

Sanine understood, and was silent.

The dreamy summer twilight-hour had come, and
above the verdant garden the sky, clear as crystal,
grew paler. At last Sanine spoke.

" Instead of going the deuce knows where, I think
it would be much more sensible if you were to marry
Lida."

Novikoff turned round trembling.

" I must ask you to stop making such stupid jokes ! "

169

160 S A N I N E

he said in a shrill, hard voice. It rang out through the
dusk, and echoed among the dreaming garden-trees.

" Why so furious ? " asked Sanine.

" Look here ! " began Novikoff hoarsely. In his
eyes there was such an expression of rage that Sanine
scarcely recognized him.

" Do you mean to say that it wouldn't be a lucky thing
for you to marry Lida ? " continued Sanine merrily.

44 Shut up ! " cried the other, staggering forward,
and brandishing an old boot over Sanine's head.

44 Now then ! Gently ! Are you mad ? " said Sanine
sharply, as he stepped backwards.

Novikoff flung the boot away in disgust, breathing
hard.

44 With that boot you were actually going to . . ."
Sanine stopped, and shook his head. He pitied his
friend, though such behaviour seemed to him utterly
ridiculous.

44 It's your fault," stammered Novikoff in confusion.

And then, suddenly, he felt full of trust and sympathy
for Sanine, strong and calm as he was. He himself
resembled a little school-boy, eager to tell some one of his
trouble. Tears filled his eyes.

44 If you only knew how sad at heart I am," he
murmured, striving to conquer his emotion.

44 My dear fellow, I know all about it — everything,"
said Sanine kindly.

44 No ! You can't know all ! " said Novikoff, as he sat
down beside the other. He thought that no one could
possibly feel such sorrow as his.

44 Yes, yes, I do," replied Sanine, 44 1 swear that I
do ; and if you'll promise not to attack me with your old
boot, I will prove what I say. Promise ? "

44 Yes, yes ! Forgive me, Volodja ! " said Novikoff,
calling Sanine by his first name which he had never
done before. This touched Sanine, and he felt the more
anxious to help his friend.

44 Well, then, listen," he began, as he placed his hand
in confidential fashion on the other's knee. 44 Let us be
quite frank. You are going away, because Lida refused

S A N I N Ё 161

you, and because, at Sarudine's the other day, you had
an idea that it was she who came to see him in private."

Novikoff bent forward, too distressed to speak. It
was as if Sanine had re-opened an agonizing wound.
The latter, noticing Novikoff's agitation, thought
inwardly, " You good-natured old fool ! "

Then he continued ;

" As to the relations between Lida and Sarudine,
I can affirm nothing positively, for I know nothing,
but I don't believe that. . . ." He did not finish the sen-
tence when he saw how dark the other's face became.

44 Their intimacy," he went on, 44 is of such recent date
that nothing serious can have happened, especially if one
considers Lida's character. You, of course, know what
she is."

There rose up before Novikoff the image of Lida, as he
had once known and loved her ; of Lida, the proud,
high-spirited girl, lustrous-eyed, and crowned with serene,
consummate beauty as with a radiant aureole. He shut
his eyes, and put faith in Sanine's words.

44 Well, and if they really did flirt a bit, that's over
and ended now. After all, what is it to you if a girl
like Lida, young and fancy-free, has had a little amuse-
ment of this sort ? Without any great effort of memory
I expect you could recall at least a dozen such flirtations
of a far more dangerous kind, too."

Novikoff glanced trustfully at Sanine, afraid to speak,
lest the faint spark of hope within him should be ex-
tinguished. At last he stammered out :
^ " You know, if I . . ."; but he got no further. Words
failed him, and tears choked his utterance.

44 Well, if you what ? " asked Sanine loudly, and his
eyes shone. 44 1 can but tell you this, that there is not
and there never has been anything between Lida and
Sarudine."

Novikoff looked at him in amazement.

44 1 . . . well ... I thought . . ." he began, feeling,
to his dismay, that he could no longer believe what Sanine
said.

14 You thought a lot of nonsense ! " replied Sanine

Ь

162 SANINE

sharply. " You ought to know Lida better than that.
What sort of love can there be with all that hesitation and
shilly-shallying ? "

Novikoff, overjoyed, grasped the other's hand.

Then, suddenly Sanine's face wore a furious expression
as he closely watched the effect of his words upon his
companion.

Novikoff showed obvious pleasure at the thought of
the woman he desired being immaculate. Into those
honest sorrowful eyes, there came a look of animal jealousy
and concupiscence.

" Oho 1 " exclaimed Sanine threateningly, as he got
up. " Then what I have to tell you is this : Lida has
not only fallen in love with Sarudine, but she has also
had illicit relations with him, and is now enceinte."

There was dead silence in the room. Novikoff smiled
a strange, sickly smile and rubbed his hands. From his
trembling lips there issued a faint cry. Sanine stood
over him, looking straight into his eyes. The wrinkled
corners of his mouth showed suppressed anger,

" Well, why don't you speak ? " he asked.

Novikoff looked up for a moment, but instantly avoided
the other's glance, his features being still distorted by a
vacuous smile.

" Lida has just gone through a terrible ordeal," said
Sanine in a low voice, as if soliloquising. " If I had not
chanced to overtake her, she would not be living now,
and what yesterday was a healthful, handsome girl
would now be lying in the river-mud, a bloated corpse,
devoured by crabs. The question is not one of her death
— we must each of us die some day — yet how sad to think
that with her all the brightness and joy created for others
by her personality would also have perished. Of course,
Lida is not the only one in all the world ; but, my God !
if there were no girlish loveliness left, it would be as sad
and gloomy as the grave.

" For my part, I am eager to commit murder when I
see a poor girl brought to ruin in this senseless way.
Personally, it is a matter of utter indifference to me
whether you marry Lida or go to the devil, but I must

S A N I N E 163

tell you that you are an idiot. If you had got one sound
idea in your head, would you worry yourself and others
so much merely because a young woman, free to pick and
choose, had become the mistress of a man who was
unworthy of her, and by following her sexual impulse
had achieved her own complete development ? Nor
are you the only idiot, let me tell you. There are millions
of your sort who make life into a prison, without sunshine
or warmth ! How often have you given rein to your
lust in company with some harlot, the sharer of your
sordid debauch ? In Lida's case it was passion, the
poetry of youth, and strength, and beauty. By what
right, then, do you shrink from her, you that call your-
self an intelligent, sensible man ? What has her past to
do with you ? Is she less beautiful ? Or less fitted
for loving, or for being loved ? Is it that you yourself
wanted to be the first to possess her ? Now then, speak ! "

" You know very well that it is not that ! " said
Novikoff, as his lips trembled.

" Ah ! yes, but it is ! " cried Sanine. " What else
could it be, pray ? "

Novikoff was silent. All was darkness within his
soul, yet, as a distant ray of light through the gloom
there came the thought of pardon and self-sacrifice.

Sanine, watching him, seemed to read what was passing
through his mind.

" I see," he began, in a subdued tone, " that you
contemplate sacrificing yourself for her. ' I will descend
to her level, and protect her from the mob,' and so on.
That's what you are saying to your virtuous self, waxing
big in your own eyes as a worm does in carrion. But it's
all a sham ; nothing else but a lie ! You're not in the least
capable of self-sacrifice. If, for instance, Lida had been
disfigured by small-pox, perhaps you might have worked
yourself up to such a deed of heroism. But after a
couple of days you would have embittered her life, either
by spurning her or deserting her, or overwhelming her
with reproaches. At present your attitude towards
yourself is one of adoration, as if you were an ikon. Yes,
yes, your face is transfigured, and every one would say,

164 S A N I N E

1 Oh ! look, there's a saint.' Yet you have lost nothing
which you desired. Lida's limbs are the same as before ;
so are her passion and her splendid vitality. But of
course, it is extremely convenient and also agreeable
to provide oneself with enjoyment while piously imagining
that one is doing a noble deed. I should rather say it
was ! "

At these words, Novikoff s self-pity gave place to a
nobler sentiment.

" You take me to be worse than I am," he said re-
proachfully. " I am not so wanting in feeling as you
think. I won't deny that I have certain prejudices, but
I love Lida Petrovna, and if I were quite sure that she
loved me, do you think that I should take a long while
to make up my mind, because ..."

His voice failed him at this last word.

Sanine suddenly became quite calm. Crossing the
room, he stood at the open window, lost in thought.

" Just now she is very sad," he said, " and will hardly
be thinking of love. If she loves you or not, how can
I tell ? But it seems to me that if you came to her as
the second man who did not condemn her for her brief
amour, well. . . . Anyway, there's no knowing what
she'll say ! "

Novikoff sat there, as one in a dream. Sadness and
joy produced within his heart a sense of happiness as
gentle and elusive as the light in an evening sky.

" Let us go to her," said Sanine. " Whatever happens,
it will please her to see a human face amid so many
false masks that hide grimacing brutes. You're a bit of
a fool, my friend, but in your stupidity there is something
which others haven't got. And to think that for ever
so long the world founded its hopes and happiness upon
such folly ! Come, let us go ! "

Novikoff smiled timidly. " I am very willing to go to
her. But will she care to see me ? "

" Don't think about that," said Sanine, as he placed
both hands on the other's shoulders. " If you are
minded to do what's right, then, do it, and the future will
take care of itself."

S A N I N E 165

" All right ; let us go," exclaimed Novikoff with
decision. In the doorway he stopped and looking Sanine
full in the face he said with unwonted emphasis :

" Look here, if it is in my power, I will do my best to
make her happy. This sounds commonplace, I know,
but I can't express my feelings in any other way."

" No matter, my friend," replied Sanine cordially, " I
understand."

XXI

The glow of summer lay on the town. Calm were the
nights when the large, lustrous moon shone overhead
and the air, heavy with odours from field and garden,
pleasurably soothed the languid senses.

In the daytime people worked, or were engaged in
politics or art ; in eating, drinking, bathing, convers-
ing. Yet, when the heat grew less, and the bustle
and turmoil had ceased, while on the dim horizon the
moon's round mysterious disc rose slowly above meadow
and field, shedding on roofs and gardens a strange, cold
light, then folk began to breathe more freely, and to live
anew, having cast off, as it were, an oppressive cloak.

And, where youth predominated, life became ampler
and more free. The gardens were filled with the melody
of nightingales, the meadow-grasses quivered in response
to the light touch of a maiden's gown, while shadows
deepened, and in the warm dusk eyes grew brighter and
voices more tender, for love was in the languid, fragrant
air.

Yourii Svarogitsch and Schafroff were both keenly
interested in politics, and in a recently formed society
for mutual education, Yourii read all the latest books,
and believed that he had now found his vocation in life,
and a way to end all his doubts. Yet, however much he
read, and despite all his activities, life had no charm
for him, being barren and dreary. Only when in robust
health, and when the physical part of him was roused
by the prospect of falling in love, did life seem really
desirable. Formerly all pretty young women had
interested him in equal measure, yet among the rest he
now singled out one in whom the charms of all the others
were united, standing apart in her loveliness as a young
birch tree stands in springtime on the border of a wood.

She was tall and shapely, her head was gracefully
poised on her white, smooth shoulders, and her voice,
in speech sonorous, was in singing sweet. Although her

166

S A N I N E 167

own talents for music and poetry were eminently pleasing
to her, it was in physical effort that her intense vitality
found its fullest expression. She longed to crush some-
thing against her bosom, to stamp her foot on the ground,
to laugh and sing, and to contemplate good-looking
young men. There were times when, in the blaze of
noon or in the pale moonlight, she felt as if she must
suddenly take off all clothing, rush across the grass, and
plunge into the river to seek some one that with tender
accents she longed to allure. Her presence troubled
Yourii. In her company he became more eloquent, his
pulses beat faster, and his brain was more alert. All
day long his thoughts were of her, and in the evening
it was she that he sought, though he never admitted
to himself that he did so. He was for ever analysing
his feelings, each sentiment withering as a blossom in the
frost. Whenever he asked himself what it was that
attracted him to Sina Karsavina, the answer was always
" the sexual instinct, and nothing else." Without

knowing why, this explanation provoked intense self-
contempt.

Yet a tacit understanding had been established between
them and, like two mirrors, the emotions of the one
were reflected in the other.

Sina Karsavina never troubled to analyse her senti-
ments which, if they caused her slight apprehension, yet
pleased her vastly. She jealously hid them from others,
being determined to keep them entirely to herself. It
distressed her much that she could not discover what
was really at work in the handsome young fellow's heart.
At times it seemed to her that there was nothing between
them, and then she grieved as if for the loss of something
precious. Nevertheless she was not averse to receiving
the attentions of other men, and her belief that Yourii
loved her gave her the elated manner of a bride-elect,
making her doubly attractive to other admirers. She
was powerfully fascinated by the presence of Sanine,
whose broad shoulders, calm eyes, and deliberate manner
won her regard. When Sina became aware of his effect
upon her, she accused herself of want of self-control

168 S A N I N E

if not of immodesty ; nevertheless she always continued
to observe him with great interest.

On the very evening that Lida had undergone such a
terrible ordeal, Yourii and Sina met at the library.
They merely exchanged greetings, and went about their
business, she to choose books, and he to look at the
latest Petersburg newspapers. They happened, how-
ever, to leave the building together and walked along
the lonely, moonlit streets side by side. All was silent
as the grave, and one could only hear at intervals the
watchman's rattle, and the distant bark of a dog.

On reaching the boulevard they were aware of a
merry party sitting under the tress. They heard
laughter ; and the gleam of a lighted cigarette revealed
for an instant a fair moustache. Just as they passed
a man's voice sang :

The heart of fair lady

Is wayward as the wind across the wheat . . .

When they got within a short distance of Sina's home
they sat down on a bench where it was very dark. In
front of them lay the broad street, all white in the moon-
light, and the church topped by a cross that gleamed
as a star above the black linden trees.

44 Look ! How pretty that is I " exclaimed Sina, as
she pointed to the church. Yourii glanced admiringly
at her white shoulder which, in the costume of Little
Russia that she wore, was exposed to view. He longed
to clasp her in his arms and kiss her full red lips. It
seemed as if he must do so, and as if she expected and
desired this. But he let the propitious moment pass,
laughing gently, almost mockingly, to himself.

" Why do you laugh ? "

" Oh ! I don't know ! — nothing 1 " replied Yourii
nervously, trying to appear unmoved.

They were both silent as they listened to faint sounds
that came to them through the darkness.

" Have you ever been in love ? " asked Sina, suddenly.

44 Yes," said Yourii slowly. 4 Suppose I tell her ? ' "
he thought. Then, aloud, 44 1 am in love now."

SANINE 169

" With whom ? " she asked, fearing to hear the answer,
while yet certain that she knew it.

" With you, of course," replied Yourii, vainly assuming
a playful tone as he leant forward and gazed into her
eyes, that shone strangely in the gloom. They expressed
surprise and expectancy. Yourii longed to embrace her,
yet again his courage failed him, and he pretended to
stifle a yawn.

" He's only in fun I " thought Sina, growing suddenly
cool.

She felt hurt at such hesitation on Yourii's part. To
keep back her tears, she clenched her teeth, and in an
altered tone exclaimed " Nonsense ! " as she quickly
got up.

" I am speaking quite seriously," began Yourii, with
unnatural earnestness. " I love you, believe me, I do,
passionately I "

Sina took up her books without saying a word.

" Why, why does he talk like this ? " she thought to
herself. " I've let him see that I care, and now he
despises me."

Yourii bent down to pick up a book that had fallen.

"It is time to go home," she said coldly. Yourii
felt grieved that she wanted to go just at that moment,
but he thought at the same time that he had played
his part quite successfully, and without in the least
appearing commonplace. Then he said, impressively :
" Au re voir 1 "

She held out her hand. He swiftly bent over it and
kissed it. Sina started back, uttering a faint cry :
" What are you doing ? "

Though his lips had only just touched her soft little
hand, his emotion was so great that he could only smile
feebly as she hurried away, and soon he heard the click
of her garden gate. As he walked homewards his face
wore the same silly smile, while he breathed the pure
night air, and felt strong, and glad of heart.

XXII

On reaching his room, narrow and stuffy as a prison-cell,
Yourii found life as dreary as ever, and his little love-
episode seemed to him thoroughly commonplace.

" I stole a kiss from her ! What bliss ! How heroic of
me ! How exquisitely romantic ! In the moonlight
the hero beguiles the fair maid with burning words and
kisses ! Bah ! what rubbish ! In such a cursed little
hole as this one insensibly becomes a shallow fool.'*

When he lived in a city, Yourii imagined that the
country was the real place for him where he could
associate with peasants and share in their rustic toil
beneath a burning sun. Now that he had the chance
to do this, village life seemed insufferable to him, and he
longed for the stimulus of a town where alone his energies
could have scope.

" The stir and bustle of a city ! The thrill of pas-
sionate eloquence ! " so he rapturously phrased it to
himself ; yet he soon checked such boyish enthusiasm.

" After all, what does it mean ? What are politics
and science ? Great as ideals in the distance, yes !
But in the life of each individual they're only a trade,
like anything else ! Strife ! Titanic efforts ! The con-
ditions of modern existence make all that impossible.
I suffer, I strive, I surmount obstacles ! Well, what
then ? Where's the end of it ? Not in my lifetime,
at any rate ! Prometheus wished to give fire to mankind,
and he did so. That was a triumph, if you like ! But
what about us ? The most we do is to throw faggots
on a fire that we have never kindled, and which by us
will never be put out."

It suddenly struck him that if things were wrong it
was because he, Yourii, was not a Prometheus. Such
a thought, in itself most distressing, yet gave him another
opportunity for morbid self-torture.

" What sort of a Prometheus am I ? Always looking
at everything from a personal, egotistic point of view.

170

S A N I N E 171

It is I, always I ; always for myself. I am every bit as
weak and insignificant as the other people that I heartily
despise." >

This comparison was so displeasing to him that his
thoughts became confused, and for a while he sat
brooding over the subject, endeavouring to find a
justification of some kind.

" No, I am not like the others," he said to himself,
feeling, in a sense, relieved, " because I think about
these things. Fellows like Riasantzeff and Novikoff and
Sanine would never dream of doing so. They have not
the remotest intention of criticising themselves, being
perfectly happy and self-satisfied, like Zarathustra's
triumphant pigs. The whole of life is summed up in
their own infinitesimal ego; and by their spirit of
shallowness it is that I am infected. Ah, well! when
you are with wolves you've got to howl. That is only
natural."

Yourii began to walk up and down the room, and, as
often happens, his change of position brought with it
a change in his train of thought.

" Very well. That's so. All the same, a good many
things have to be considered. For instance, what is
my position with regard to Sina Karsavina ? Whether
I love her or not it doesn't much matter. The question
is, what will come of it all? Suppose I marry her, or
become closely attached to her. Will that make me
happy ? To betray her would be a crime, and if I love
her . . . Well, then, I can ... In all probability she
would have children." He blushed at the thought.
" There's nothing wrong about that, only it would be
a tie, and I should lose my freedom. A family man !
Domestic bliss ! No, that's not in my line."

" One . . . two . . . three," he counted, as he tried
each time to step across two boards and set his foot on
the third one. " If I could be sure that she would not
have children, or that I should get so fond of them that
my whole life would be devoted to them ! No ; how
terribly commonplace ! Riasantzeff would be fond of
his children, too. What difference would there then be

172 SANINE

between us ? A life of self-sacrifice ! That is the real
life ! Yes, but of sacrifice for whom ? And in what
way ? No matter what road I choose nor at what goal
I aim, show me the pure and perfect ideal for which it
were worth while to die ! No, it is not that I am weak ;
it is because life itself is not worthy of sacrifice nor of
enthusiasm. Consequently there is no sense in living
nt all."

Never before had this conclusion seemed so absolutely
convincing to him. On his table lay a revolver, and
each time he passed it, while walking up and down, its
polished steel caught his eye.

He took it up and examined it carefully. It was
loaded. He placed the barrel against his temple.

"There! Like that!" he thought. "Bang! And
it's all over. Is it a wise or a stupid thing to shoot
oneself ? Is suicide a cowardly act ? Then I suppose
that I am a coward ! "

The contact of cold steel on his heated brow was at
once pleasant and alarming.

" What about Sina ? " he asked himself. " Ah !
well, I shall never get her, and so I leave to some one
else this enjoyment." The thought of Sina awoke tender
memories, which he strove to repress as sentimental folly.

" Why should I not do it ? " His heart seemed to stop
beating. Then once more, and deliberately this time,
he put the revolver to his brow and pulled the trigger.
His blood ran cold ; there was a buzzing in his ears and
the room seemed to whirl round.

The weapon did not go off ; only the click of the
trigger could be heard. Half fainting, his hand dropped
to his side. Every fibre within him quivered, his head
swam, his lips were parched, and his hand trembled so
much that when he laid down the revolver it rattled
against the table.

" A fine fellow I am!" he thought as, recovering
himself, he went to the glass to see what he looked like.

" Then I'm a coward, am I ? " " No," he thought
proudly, " I am not ! I did it right enough. How
could I help it if the thing didn't go off ? "

S A N I N E 173

His own vision looked out at him from the mirror ;
rather a solemn, grave one, he thought. Trying to
persuade himself that he attached no importance to
what he had just done, he put out his tongue and moved
away from the glass.

" Fate would not have it so," he said aloud, and the
sound of the words seemed to cheer him.

" I wonder if anyone saw me ? " he thought, as he
looked round in alarm. Yet all was -still, and nothing
could be heard moving behind the closed door. To him
it was as if nothing in the world existed and suffered
in this terrible solitude but himself. He put out the
lamp, and to his amazement perceived through a chink
in the shutter the first red rays of dawn. Then he lay
down to sleep, and in dream was aware of something
gigantic that bent over him, exhaling fiery breath.

XXIII

Gently, caressingly, the dusk, fragrant with the scent of
blossoms, descended. Sanine sat at a table near the
window, striving to read in the waning light a favourite
tale of his. It described the lonely, tragic death of an
old bishop, who, clad in his sacerdotal vestments and
holding a jewelled cross, expired amid the odour of
incense.

In the room the temperature was as cool as that out-
side, for the soft evening breeze played round Sanine's
powerful frame, rilling his lungs, and lightly caressing
his hair. Absorbed in his book, he read on, while his
lips moved from time to time, and he seemed like a big
boy devouring some story of adventures among Indians.
Yet, the more he read, the sadder became his thoughts.
How much there was in this world that was senseless
and absurd ! How dense and uncivilized men were,
and how far ahead of them in ideas he was !

The door opened and some one entered. Sanine looked
up. " Aha ! " he exclaimed, as he shut the book,
" what's the news ? "

Novikoff smiled sadly, as he took the other's hand.

" Oh ! nothing," he said, as he approached the window,
" It's all just the same as ever it was."

From where he sat Sanine could "only see Novikoff s
tall figure silhouetted against the evening sky, and for a
long while he gazed at him without speaking.

When Sanine first took his friend to see Lida, who now
no longer resembled the proud, high-spirited girl of
heretofore, neither she nor Novikoff said a word to each
other about all that lay nearest to their hearts. He
knew that, after having spoken, they would be unhappy,
yet doubly so if they kept silence. What to him was
plain and easy they could only accomplish, he felt sure,
after much suffering. "Be it so," thought he, " for
suffering purifies and ennobles." Now, however, the
propitious moment for them had come.

174

S A N I N E 175

Novikoff stood at the window, silently watching the
sunset. His mood was a strange one, begotten of grief
for what was lost, and of longing for joy that was near.
In this soft twilight he pictured to himself Lida, sad, and
covered with shame. If he had but the courage to do it,
this very moment he would kneel before her, with kisses
warm her cold little hands, and by his great, all-forgiving
love rouse her to a new life. Yet the power to go to her
failed him.

Of this Sanine was conscious. He rose slowly, and said,

" Lida is in the garden. Shall we go to her ? "

Novikoff' s heart beat faster. Within it, joy and grief
seemed strangely blended. His expression changed
somewhat, and he nervously fingered his moustache.

44 Well, what do you say ? Shall we go ? " repeated
Sanine calmly, as if he had decided to do something
important. Novikoff felt that Sanine knew all that was
troubling him, and, though in a measure comforted, he
was yet childishly abashed.

44 Come along ! " said Sanine gently, as taking hold of
Novikoff' s shoulders he pushed him towards the door.

44 Yes. . . I . . ." murmured the latter,

A sudden impulse to embrace Sanine almost overcame
him, but he dared not and could but glance at him with
tearful eyes. It was dark in the warm, fragrant garden,
and the trunks of the trees formed Gothic arches against
the pale green of the sky.

A faint mist hovered above the parched surface of the
lawn. It was as if an unseen presence wandered along
the silent walks and amid the motionless trees, at whose
approach the slumbering leaves and blossoms softly
trembled. The sunset still flamed in the west behind
the river which flowed in shining curves through the dark
meadows. At the edge of the stream sat Lida. Her
graceful figure bending forward above the water seemed
like that of some mournful spirit in the dusk. The sense
of confidence inspired by the voice of her brother forsook
her as quickly as it had come, and once more shame
and fear overwhelmed her. She was obsessed by the
thought that she had no right to happiness, nor yet to live.

176 S A N I N E

She spent whole days in the garden, book in hand,
unable to look her mother in the face. A thousand times
she said to herself that her mother's anguish would be as
nothing to what she herself was now suffering, yet when-
ever she approached her parent her voice faltered, and
in her eyes there was a guilty look. Her blushes and
strange confusion of manner at last aroused her mother's
suspicion, to avoid whose searching glances and anxious
questionings Lida preferred to spend her days in solitude.
Thus, on this evening she was seated by the river, watching
the sunset and brooding over her grief. Life, as it
seemed to her, was still incomprehensible. Her view of it
was blurred as by some hideous phantom. A series of
books which she had read had served to give her greater
freedom of thought. As she believed, her conduct was
not only natural but almost worthy of praise. She had
brought harm to no one thereby, only providing herself
and another with sensual enjoyment. Without such
enjoyment there would be no youth, and life itself would
be barren and desolate as a leafless tree in autumn.

The thought that her union with a man had not been
sanctioned by the church seemed to her ridiculous. By
the free mind of a man such claims had long been swept
aside. She ought really to find joy in this new life,
just as a flower on some bright morning rejoices at the
touch of the pollen borne to it on the breeze. Yet she
felt unutterably degraded, and baser than the basest.

All such grand, noble ideas and eternal verities melted
like wax at the thought of her day of infamy that was at
hand. And instead of trampling underfoot the folk
that she despised, her one thought was how best she
might avoid or deceive them.

While concealing her grief from others, Lida felt
herself attracted to Novikoff as a flower to the sunlight.
The suggestion that he was to save her seemed base,
almost criminal. It galled her to think that she should
depend upon his affection and forgiveness, yet stronger
far than pride was the passionate longing to live.

Her attitude towards human stupidity was one of fear
rather than disdain ; she could not look Novikoff in the

S A N I N E 177

face, but trembled before him, like a slave. Her plight
was pitiable as that of a helpless bird whose wings have
been clipped, and that can never fly again.

At times, when her suffering seemed intolerable, she
thought with naive astonishment of her brother. She
knew that, for him, nothing was sacred, that he looked
at her, his sister, with the eyes of a male, and that he was
selfish and immoral. Nevertheless he was the only man in
whose presence she felt herself absolutely free, and with
whom she could openly discuss the most intimate
secrets of her life. She had been seduced. Well, what of
that ? She had had an intrigue. Very good. It was at
her own wish. People would despise and humiliate
her ; what did it matter ? Before her lay life, and
sunshine, and the wide world ; and, as for men, there
were plenty to be had. Her mother would grieve. Well,
that was her own affair. Lida had never known what
her mother's youth had been, and after her death there
would be no further supervision. They had met by
chance on life's road, and had gone part of the way to-
gether. Was that any reason why they should mutually
oppose each other ?

Lida saw plainly that she would never have the same
freedom which her brother possessed. That she had
ever thought so was due to the influence of this calm,
strong man whom she affectionately admired. Strange
thoughts came to her, thoughts of an illicit nature.

"If he were not my brother, but a stranger ! . . ."
she said to herself, as she hastily strove to suppress the
shameful and yet alluring suggestion.

Then she remembered Novikoff and like a humble
slave longed for his pardon and his love. She heard steps
and looked round. Novikoff and Sanine came to her
silently across the grass. She could not discern their
faces in the dusk, yet she felt that the dreaded moment
was at hand. She turned very pale, and it seemed as if
life was about to end.

" There ! " said Sanine, " I have brought Novikoff
to you. He will tell you himself all that he has to tell.
Stay here quietly, while I will go and get some tea."

м

178 S A N I N E

Turning on his heel, he walked swiftly away, and for a
moment they watched his white shirt as he disappeared
in the gloom. So great was the silence that they could
hardly believe that he had gone farther than the shadow
of the surrounding trees.

" Lidia Petrovna," said Novikoff gently, in a voice
so sad and touching that it went to her heart.

" Poor fellow," she thought, " how good he is."

" I know everything, Lidia Petrovna," continued
Novikoff, " but I love you just as much as ever. Perhaps
some day you will learn to love me. Tell me, will you
be my wife ? "

" I had better not say too much about that" he
thought, " she must never know what a sacrifice I am
making for her."

Lida was silent. In such stillness one could hear the
rippling of the stream.

" We are both unhappy," said Novikoff, conscious
that these words came from the depth of his heart.
" Together perhaps we may find life easier."

Lida's eyes were filled with tears of gratitude as she
turned towards him and murmured, " Perhaps."

Yet her eyes said, " God knows I will be a good wife to
you, and love and respect you."

Novikoff read their message. He knelt down im-
petuously, and seizing her hand, kissed it passionately.
Roused by such emotion, Lida forgot her shame.

" That's over 1 " she thought, " and I shall be happy
again ! Dear, good fellow 1 " Weeping for joy, she
gave him both her hands, and bending over his head
she kissed his soft, silky hair which she had always
admired. A vision rose before her of Sarudine, but it
instantly vanished.

When Sanine returned, having given them enough time,
as he thought, for a mutual explanation, he found them
seated, hand in hand, engaged in quiet talk.

" Aha ! I see how it is ! " said Sanine gravely.

44 Thank God, and be happy."

He was about to say something else, but sneezed
loudly instead.

S A N I N E 179

" It's damp out here. Mind you don't catch cold,'
he added, rubbing his eyes.

Lida laughed. The echo of her voice across the river
sounded charming.

44 I must go," said Sanine, after a pause.

" Where are you going ? " asked Novikoff.

44 Svarogitsch and that officer who admires Tolstoi,
what's his name ? a lanky German fellow, have called for
me."

" You mean Von Deitz," said Lida, laughing.

"That's the man. They wanted us all to come with
them to a meeting, but I said that you were not at home."

" Why did you do that ? " asked Lida, still laughing ;
44 we might have gone, too."

44 No, you stop here," replied Sanine. 44 If I had
anybody to keep me company, I should do the same."

With that he left them.

Night came on apace, and the first trembling stars
were mirrored in the swiftly flowing stream.

XXIV

The evening was dark and sultry. Above the trees clouds
chased each other across the sky, hurrying onward as to
some mysterious goal. In pale green spaces overhead
faint stars glimmered and then vanished. Above, all
was commotion, while the earth seemed waiting, as in
breathless suspense. Amid this silence, human voices
in dispute sounded harsh and shrill.

" Anyhow," exclaimed Von Deitz, blundering along in
unwieldy fashion, " Christianity has enriched mankind
with an imperishable boon, being the only system of
morals that is complete and comprehensible."

" Quite so," replied Yourii, who walked behind the
last speaker tossing his head defiantly, and glaring at
the officer's back, " but in its conflict with the bestial
instincts of mankind Christianity has proved itself to be
as impotent as all the other religions."

" How do you mean, 4 proved itself to be ' ? " . exclaimed
Von Deitz angrily. " To Christianity belongs the future,
and to suggest that it is obsolete ..."

" There is no future for Christianity," broke in Yourii
vehemently. "If at the zenith of its development
Christianity could not triumph, but became the tool of a
shameless gang of impostors, it would be nothing short of
absurd to expect a miracle nowadays, when even the
word Christianity sounds grotesque. History is inexor-
able ; what has once disappeared from the scene can never
return."

"Do you mean to say that Christianity has disappeared
from the scene ? " shrieked Von Deitz.

" Certainly, I do," continued Yourii obstinately.
" You seem as surprised as if such an idea were utterly
impossible. Just as the law of Moses has passed away,
just as Buddha and the gods of Greece are dead, so, too,
Christ is dead. It is but the law of evolution. Why
should you be so amazed ? You don't believe in the
divinity of his doctrine, do you ? "

180

SANINE 181

" No, of course not," retorted Von Deitz, less irritated
at the question than at Yourii's offensive tone.

44 Then how can you maintain that a man is able to
create eternal laws ? "

" Idiot ! " thought Yourii, agreeably convinced that
the other was infinitely less intelligent than he, and would
never be able to comprehend what was as plain and clear
as noonday.

44 Supposing it were so," rejoined Von Deitz, nettled,
in his turn. " The future will nevertheless have
Christianity as its basis. It has not perished, but, like
seed in the soil ..."

" I was not talking about that," said Yourii, confused
somewhat, and thus the more vexed, 44 what I meant to
say . . ."

44 No, excuse me, but that's what you said. . . ."

44 If I said no, then I meant no ! How absurd you are ! "
interrupted Yourii, rendered more furious by the thought
that this stupid Von Deitz should for a moment presume
to think himself the cleverer. 44 1 meant to say ..."

41 That may be. I am sorry if I misunderstood you."
Von Deitz shrugged his narrow shoulders, with an air of
condescension, as much as to say that he had got the best
of the argument.

This was not lost upon Yourii, whose fury almost choked
him.

44 1 do not deny that Christianity has played an enormous
part . . ."

44 Ah ! now you contradict yourself," exclaimed Von
Deitz, more triumphant than ever, being intensely pleased
to feel how incomparably superior he was to Yourii,
who obviously had not the remotest conception of what
was so neatly and definitely set out in his own brain.

44 To you it may seem that I am contradicting myself,"
said Yourii bitterly, 44 but, as a matter of fact, my
contention is a perfectly logical one, and it is not my
fault if you don't wish to understand me. I said before,
and I say again, that Christianity is played out, and it is
vain to look to it for salvation."

44 Yes, yes ; but do you mean to deny the salutary

182 S A N I N E

influence of Christianity, that is to say, as the basis of
social order? . . ."

" No, I don't deny that."

" But I do," interposed Sanine, who till now had
walked behind them in silence. His voice sounded calm
and pleasant, in strange contrast to the harsh accent of
the disputants.

Yourii was silent. This good-tempered, mocking tone
of voice annoyed him, yet he had no answer ready. He
was not fond of arguing with Sanine, for his usual vocabu-
lary proved useless in such an encounter. Every time it
seemed as if he were trying to break down a wall while
standing on smooth ice.

Von Deitz, however, stumbling along and rattling his
spurs, exclaimed irritably :

" May I ask why ? "

11 Because I do," replied Sanine coolly.

44 Because you do ! If one asserts a thing, one
ought to prove it."

44 Why must I prove it ? There is no need to prove
anything. It is my own personal conviction, but I have
not the slightest wish to convince you. Besides, it would
be useless."

44 According to your line of reasoning," observed
Yourii cautiously, " one had better make a bonfire of all
literature."

44 Oh no ! Why do that ? " replied Sanine. 4t Litera-
ture is a very great, and a very interesting thing. Real
literature, such as I mean, is not polemical after the manner
of some prig who, having nothing to do, endeavours to
convince everybody that he is extremely intelligent.
Literature reconstructs life, and penetrates even to the
very life-blood of humanity, from generation to generation.
To destroy literature would be to take away all colour
from life and make it insipid."

Von Deitz stopped short, letting Yourii pass him, and
then he asked Sanine :

44 Oh ! pray tell me more ! What you were saying
juts now interests me immensely."

Sanine laughed.

SANINE 183

" What I said was simple enough. I can explain my
point at greater length, if you wish. In my opinion
Christianity has played a sorry part in the life of humanity.
At the very moment when human beings felt that their
lot was unbearable, and when the down-trodden and
oppressed, coming to their senses, had determined to
upset the monstrously unjust order of things, and to
destroy all human parasites — then, I say, Christianity
made its appearance, gentle, humble, and promising much.
It condemned strife, held out visions of eternal bliss,
lulled mankind to sweet slumber, and preached a religion
of non-resistance to ill-treatment ; in short, it acted as a
safety-valve for all this pent-up wrath. Those of power-
ful character, nurtured amid a spirit of revolt, and
longing to shake off the yoke of centuries, lost all their
fire. Like imbeciles, they walked into the arena and,
with courage worthy of a better aim, courted destruction.
Naturally, their enemies wished for nothing better. And
now it will need centuries of infamous oppression before
the flame of revolt shall again be lighted. Christianity
has clothed human individuality, too obstinate ever to
accept slavery, with a garb of penitence, hiding under
it all the colours of liberty. It deceived the strong
who to-day could have captured fortune and happiness,
transferring life's centre of gravity to the future, to a
dreamland that does not exist, and that none of them
will ever see. And thus all the charm of life vanished ;
bravery, passion, beauty, all were dead ; duty alone
remained, and the dream of a future golden age — golden
maybe, for others, coming after. Yes, Christianity has
played a sorry part ; and the name of Christ . . ."

" Well ! I never ! " broke in Von Deitz, as he stopped
short, waving his long arms in the dusk. " That's really
a bit too much ! "

" Yet, have you never thought what a hideous era
of bloodshed would have supervened if Christianity had
not averted it ? " asked Yourii nervously.

" Ha ! ha ! " replied Sanine, with a disdainful gesture,
" at first, under the cloak of Christianity, the arena
was drenched with the blood of the martyrs, and then,

184 S A N I N E

later, people were massacred and shut up in prisons and
mad-houses. And now, every day, more blood is spilt than
ever could be shed by a universal revolution. The worst
of it all is that each betterment in the life of humanity
has always been achieved by bloodshed, anarchy and
revolt, though men always affect to make humanitarian-
ism and love of one's neighbour the basis of their lives
and actions. The whole thing results in a stupid
tragedy ; false, hypocritical, neither flesh nor fowl.
For my part, I should prefer an immediate world-catas-
trophe to a dull, vegetable- existence lasting probably
another two thousand years."

Yourii was silent. Strange to say, his thoughts were
not fixed upon the speaker's words, but upon the speaker's
personality. The latter's absolute assurance he considered
offensive, in fact insupportable.

" Would you, please, tell me," he began, irresistibly
impelled to wound Sanine, " why you always talk as if
you were teaching little children ? "

Von Deitz, feeling uneasy at this speech, uttered some-
thing conciliatory, and rattled his spurs.

" What do you mean by that ? " asked Sanine sharply,
" why are you so angry ? "

Yourii felt that his speech was discourteous, and that he
ought not to go any farther, yet his wounded self-respect
drove him to add :

" Such a tone is really most unpleasant."

" It is my usual tone," replied Sanine, partly annoyed,
and partly anxious to appease the other.

" Well, it is not always a suitable one," continued
Yourii, raising his voice, " I really fail to see what gives
you such assurance."

" Probably the consciousness of being more intelligent
than you are," replied Sanine, now quite calm.

Yourii stood still, trembling from head to foot.

" Look here ! " he exclaimed hoarsely.

" Don't get angry ! " interposed Sanine. " I had no
wish to offend you, and only expressed my candid opinion.
It is the same opinion that you have of me, and that
Von Deitz has of both of us, and so on. It is only natural."

SANINE 185

Sanine spoke in such a frank, friendly way that to show
further displeasure would have been absurd. Yourii
was silent, and Von Deitz, being still concerned on his
behalf, again rattled his spurs and breathed hard.

" At any rate I don't tell you my opinion to your face,"
murmured Yourii.

" No ; and that is where you are wrong. I was listening
to your discussion just now, and the offensive spirit
prompted every word you said. It is merely a question
of form. I say what I think, but you don't say what you
think ; and that is not in the least interesting. If we
were all more sincere, it would be far more amusing for
everybody."

Von Deitz laughed loudly.

" What an original idea ! " he exclaimed.

Yourii did not reply. His anger had subsided, and he
felt almost pleased, though it irked him to think that
he had got the worst of it, and would not admit this.

" Such a state of things might be somewhat too primi-
tive," added Von Deitz sententiously.

" Then, you had rather that it were complicated and
obscure ? " asked Sanine.

Von Deitz shrugged his shoulders, lost in thought.

XXV

Leaving the boulevard behind them, they passed along
the dreary streets lying outside the town, though they
were better lighted than the boulevard. The wood-
pavement stood out clearly against the black ground,
and above loomed the pale cloud-covered heaven, where
here and there stars gleamed.

44 Here we are," said Von Deitz as he opened a low door
and disappeared through it. Immediately afterwards
they heard the hoarse bark of a dog, and a voice exclaim-
ing, 44 Lie down, Sultan." Before them lay a large empty
courtyard at the farther side of which they discerned a
black mass. It was a steam mill, and its narrow chimney
pointed sadly to the sky. Round about it were dark
sheds, but no trees, except in a small garden in front of
the adjoining house. Through an open window a ray
of light touched their green leaves.

44 A dismal kind of place," said Sanine.

44 1 suppose the mill has been here a long while ? "
asked Yourii.

44 Oh ! yes, for ever so long ! " replied Von Deitz who,
as he passed, looked through the lighted window, and in
a tone of satisfaction said, 44 Oho ! Quite a lot of people,
already."

Yourii and Sanine also looked in at the window and
saw heads moving in a dim cloud of blue smoke. A
broad-shouldered man with curly hair leant over the sill
and called out, 4C Who's there ? "

44 Friends ! " replied Yourii.

As they went up the steps they pushed against some one
who shooks hands with them in friendly fashion.

44 1 was afraid that you wouldn't come ! " said a cheery
voice in a strong Jewish accent.

44 Soloveitchik — Sanine," said Von Deitz, introducing
the two, and grasping the former's cold, trembling hand.

Soloveitchik laughed nervously. I

44 So pleased to meet you ! " he said. 4' I have heard so

186

S A N I N E 187

much about you, and, you know " He stumbled back-
wards, still holding Sanine's hand. In doing so he fell
against Yourii, and trod on Von Deitz's foot.

" I beg your pardon, Jakof Adolfovitch ! " he ex-
claimed, as he proceeded to shake Von Deitz's hand with
great energy. Thus it was some time before in the dark-
ness they could find the door. In the ante-room, on
rows of nails put up specially for this evening by orderly
Soloveitchik, hung hats and caps, while close to the
window were dark green bottles containing beer. Even
the ante-room was filled with smoke.

In the light Soloveitchik appeared to be a young dark-
eyed Jew with curly hair, small features, and bad teeth
which, as he was continually smiling, were always dis-
played.

The newcomers were greeted with a noisy chorus of
welcome. Yourii saw Sina Karsavina sitting on the
window-sill, and instantly everything seemed to him
bright and joyous, as if the meeting were not in a stuffy
room full of smoke, but at a festival amid fair green
meadows in spring.

Sina, slightly confused, smiled at him pleasantly.

" Well, sirs, I think we are all here, now," exclaimed
Soloveitchik, trying to speak in a loud, cheery way with
his feeble, unsteady voice, and gesticulating in ludicrous
fashion.

44 1 beg your pardon, Yourii Nicolaijevitch ; I seem to
be always pushing against you," he said, laughing, as he
lurched forward in an endeavour to be polite.

Yourii good-humouredly squeezed his arm.

44 That's all right," he said.

44 We're not all here, but deuce take the others 1 " cried a
burly, good-looking student. His loud tradesman's voice
made one feel that he was used to ordering others about.

Soloveitchik sprang forward to the table and rang a
little bell. He smiled once more, and this time for sheer
satisfaction at having thought of using a bell.

44 Oh I none of that ! " growled the student. " You've
always got some silly nonsense of that sort. It's not
necessary in the least."

188 SANINE

" Well ... I thought . . . that . . ." stammered
Soloveitchik, as, looking embarrassed, he put the bell
in his pocket.

" I think that the table should be placed in the middle
of the room," said the student.

" Yes, yes, I am going to move it directly ! " replied
Soloveitchik, as he hurriedly caught hold of the edge of
the table.

" Mind the lamp ! " cried Dubova.

" That's not the way to move it ! " exclaimed the
student, slapping his knee.

" Let me help you," said Sanine.

" Thank you ! Please 1 " replied Soloveitchik eagerly.

Sanine set the table in the middle of the room, and as
he did so, the eyes of all were fixed on his strong back and
muscular shoulders which showed through his thin shirt.

" Now, Goschienko, as the initiator of this meeting,
it is for you to make the opening speech," said the pale-
faced Dubova, and from the expression in her eyes it was
hard to say if she were in earnest, or only laughing at the
student.

" Ladies and gentlemen," began Goschienko, raising
his voice, " everybody knows why we have met here
to-night, and so we can dispense with any introductory
speech."

" As a matter of fact,' said Sanine, " I don't know why
I came here, but," he added, laughing, " it may have
been because I was told that there would be some beer."

Goschienko glanced contemptuously at him over the
lamp, and continued :

" Our association is formed for the purpose of self-
education by means of mutual readings, and debates,
and independent discussions "

" Mutual readings ? I don't understand," interrupted
Dubova in a tone of voice that might have been thought
ironical.

Goschienko blushed slightly.

" I meant to say readings in which all take part. Thus,
the aim of our association is for the development of
individual opinion which shall lead to the formation in

SANINE 189

this town of a league in sympathy with the social de-
mocratic party. ..."

" Aha ! " drawled Ivanoff, as he scratched the back
of his head.

" But with that we shall deal later on. At the com-
mencement we shall not set ourselves to solve such

great

(C

Or small . . ." prompted Dubova.

" Problems," continued Goschienko, affecting not to
hear. " We shall begin by making out a programme of
such works as we intend to read, and I propose to devote
the present evening to this purpose."

" Soloveitchik, are your workmen coming ? " asked
Dubova.

" Yes, of course they are ! " replied Soloveitchik,
jumping up as if he had been stung. "We have already
sent to fetch them."

tfc Soloveitchik, don't shout like that ! " exclaimed
Goschienko.

" Here they are ! " said Schafroff, who was listening
to Goschienko's words with almost reverent attention.

Outside, the gate creaked, and again the dog's gruff
bark was heard.

" They've come ! " cried Soloveitchik as he rushed out
of the room.

" Lie down, Sultan 1 " he shouted from the house-door.

There was a sound of heavy footseps of coughing,
and of men's voices. Then a young student from the
Polytechnic School entered, very like Goschienko, except
that he was dark and plain. With him, looking awkward
and shy, came two workmen, with grimy hands, and
wearing short jackets over their dirty red shirts. One
of them was very tall and gaunt, whose clean-shaven,
sallow face bore the mark of years of semi-starvation,
perpetual care and suppressed hatred. The other had
the appearance of an athlete, being broad-shouldered
and comely, with curly hair. He looked about him as a
young peasant might do when first coming to a town.
Pushing past them, Soloveitchik began solemnly,
" Gentlemen, these are "

190 SANINE

" Oh ! that'll do ! " cried Goschienko, interrupting
him, as usual. " Good evening, comrades."

" Pistzoff and Koudriavji," said the Polytechnic student.

The men strode cautiously into the room, stiffly grasping
the hands held out to give them a singularly courteous
welcome. Pistzoff smiled confusedly, and Koudriavji
moved his long neck about as if the collar of his shirt
were throttling him. Then they sat down by the window,
near Sina.

" Why hasn't Nicolaieff come ? " asked Goschienko
sharply.

" Nicolaieff was not able to come," replied Pistzoff.

" Nicolaieff is blind drunk," added Koudriavji in a
dry voice.

" Oh ! I see," said Goschienko, as he shook his head.
This movement on his part, which seemed to express
compassion, exasperated Yourii, who saw in the big
student a personal enemy.

" He chose the better part," observed Ivanoff.

Again the dog barked in the courtyard.

" Some one else is coming," said Dubova.

" Probably, the police," remarked Goschienko with
feigned indifference.

" I am sure that you would not mind if it were the
police," cried Dubova.

Sanine looked at her intelligent eyes, and the plait of
fair hair falling over her shoulder, which almost made her
face attractive.

" A smart girl, that ! " he thought.

Soloveitchik jumped up as if to run out, but, recollecting
himself, pretended to take a cigarette from the table.
Goschienko noticed this, and, without replying to Dubova,
said :

" How fidgety you are, Soloveitchik ! "

Soloveitchik turned crimson and blinked his eyes
ruefully. He felt vaguely conscious that his zeal did
not deserve to be so severely rebuked. Then Novikoff
noisily entered.

" Here I am ! " he exclaimed, with a cheery smile.

" So I see," replied Sanine.

S A N I N E 191

Novikoff shook the other's hand and whispered hur-
riedly, as if by way of excuse, " Lidia Petrovna has got
visitors."

44 Oh! yes."

44 Have we only come here to talk ? " asked the Poly-
technic student with some irritation. 44 Do let us make a
start."

44 Then you have not begun yet ? " said Novikoff,
evidently pleased. He shook hands with the two work-
men, who hastily rose from their seats. It was em-
barrassing to meet the doctor as a fellow-comrade, when
at the hospital he was wont to treat them as his inferiors.

Goschienko, looking rather annoyed, then began.

44 Ladies and gentlemen, we are naturally all desirous
to widen our outlook, and to broaden our views of life ;
and, believing that the best method of self-culture and
of self-development lies in a systematic course of reading
and an interchange of opinions regarding the books read,
we have decided to start this little club. . . ."

44 That's right," sighed Pistzoff approvingly, as he
looked round at the company with his bright, dark eyes.

44 The question now arises : What books ought we to
read ? Possibly some one here present could make a
suggestion regarding the programme that should be
adopted ? "

Schafroff put on his glasses and slowly stood up. In
his hand he held a small note-book.

44 1 think," he began in his dry, uninteresting voice,
44 1 think that our programme should be divided into two
parts. For the purpose of intellectual development two
elements are undoubtedly necessary : the study of life from
its earliest stages, and the study of life as it actually is."

44 Schafroff 's getting quite eloquent," cried Dubova.

44 Knowledge of the former can be gained by reading
standard books of historical and scientific value, and
knowledge of the latter, by belles lettres} which bring us
face to face with life."

44 If you go on talking to us like this, we shall soon fall
fast asleep." Dubova could not resist making this
remark, and in her eyes there was a roguish twinkle.

192 S A N I N E

" I am trying to speak in such a way as to be under-
stood by all," replied Schafroff gently.

" Very well ! Speak as best you can ! " said Dubova
with a gesture expressing her resignation.

Sina Karsavina laughed at Schafroff, too, in her pretty
way, tossing back her head and showing her white, shapely
throat. Hers was a rich, musical laugh.

" I have drawn up a programme — but perhaps it would
bore you if I read it out ? " said Schafroff, with a furtive
glance at Dubova. " I propose to begin with 4 The
Origin of the Family ' side by side with Darwin's works,
and, in literature, we could take Tolstoi."

" Of course, Tolstoi' ! " said Von Deitz, looking ex-
tremely pleased with himself as he proceeded to light a
cigarette.

Schafroff paused until the cigarette was lighted, and
then continued his list :

" Tchekhof, Ibsen, Knut Hamsun "

" But we've read them all ! " exclaimed Sina
Karsavina.

Her delightful voice thrilled Yourii, and he said :

" Of course ! Schafroff forgets that this is not a Sunday
school. What a strange jumble, too ! Tolstoi and Knut
Hamsun "

Schafroff blandly adduced certain arguments in support
of his programme, yet in so diffuse a way that no one
could understand him.

" No," said Yourii with emphasis, delighted to observe
Sina Karsavina looking at him, " No, I don't agree with
you." He then proceeded to expound his own views on
the subject, and the more he spoke, the more he strove
to win Sina's approval, mercilessly attacking Schafroff 's
scheme, and even those points with which he himself was
in sympathy.

The burly Goschienko now gave his views on the
subject. He considered himself the cleverest, most
eloquent and most cultured of them all ; moreover in a
little club like this, which he had organized, he expected
to play first fiddle. Yourii's success annoyed him, and
he felt bound to go against him. Being ignorant of

S A N I N E 193

Svarogitsch's opinions, he could not oppose them en bloc,
but only fixed upon certain weak points in his argument
with which he stubbornly disagreed.

Thereupon a lengthy and apparently interminable
discussion ensued. The Polytechnic student, Ivanoff,
and Novikoff all began to argue at once, and through
clouds of tobacco-smoke hot, angry faces could be seen,
while words and phrases were hopelessly blent in a
bewildering chaos devoid at last of all meaning.

Dubova gazed at the lamp, listening and dreaming.
Sina Karsavina paid no attention, but opened the window
facing the garden, and, folding her arms, leaned over the
sill and looked out at the night. At first she could dis-
tinguish nothing, but gradually out of the gloom the dark
trees emerged, and she saw the light on the garden-fence
and the grass. A soft, refreshing breeze fanned her
shoulders and lightly touched her hair.

Looking upwards, Sina could watch the swift procession
of the clouds. She thought of Yourii and of her love.
Her mood, if pleasurably pensive, was yet a little sad.
It was so good to rest there, exposed to the cool night wind,
and listen with all her heart to the voice of one man which
to her ears sounded clearer and more masterful than the
rest. Meanwhile the din grew greater, and it was evident
that each person thought himself more cultivated and
intelligent than his neighbours and was striving to convert
them. Matters at last became so unpleasant that the
most peaceable among them lost their tempers.

44 If you judge like that," shouted Yourii, his eyes
flashing, for he was anxious not to yield in the presence
of Sina, though she could only hear his voice, " then we
must go back to the origin of all ideas. . . ."

" What ought we, then, in your opinion to read ? "
said the hostile Goschienko.

44 What you ought to read ? Why, Confucius, the
Gospels, Ecclesiastes . . ."

44 The Psalms and the Apocrypha," was the Polytechnic
student's mocking interruption.

Goschienko laughed maliciously, oblivious of the fact
that he himself had never read one of these works.

N

194 S A N I N E

" Of what good would that be ? " asked Schafroff in a
tone of disappointment.

"It's like they do in church ! " tittered Pistzoff.

Yourii's face flushed.

" I am not joking. If you wish to be logical, then ..."

" Ah ! but what did you say to me just now about
Christ ? " cried Von Deitz exultantly.

" What did I say ? ... If one wishes to study life,
and to form some definite conception of the mutual
relationship of man to man, surely the best way is to get
a thorough knowledge of the Titanic work of those who,
representing the best models of humanity, devoted their
lives to the solution of the simplest and most complex
problems with regard to human relationships."

" There I don't agree with you," retorted Goschienko.

" But I do," cried Novikoff hotly.

Once more all was confusion and senseless uproar,
during which it was impossible to hear either the beginning
or the end of any utterance.

Reduced to silence by this war of words, Soloveitchik
sat in a corner and listened. At first the expression on
his face was one of intense, almost childish interest, but
after a while his doubt and distress were shown by lines
at the corners of his mouth and of his eyes.

Sanine drank, smoked, and said nothing. He looked
thoroughly bored, and when amid the general clamour
some of the voices became unduly violent, he got up, and
extinguishing his cigarette, said :

" I say, do you know, this is getting uncommonly
boring ! "

" Yes, indeed ! " cried Dubova.

" Sheer vanity and vexation of spirit ! " said Ivanoff,
who had been waiting for a fitting moment to drag in this
favourite phrase of his.

" In what way ? " asked the Polytechnic student,
angrily.

Sanine took no notice of him, but, turning to Yourii,
said :

" Do you really believe that you can get a conception
of life from any book ? "

S A N I N E 195

" Most certainly I do," replied Yourii, in a tone of
surprise.

" Then you are wrong," said Sanine. " If this were
really so, one could mould the whole of humanity ac-
cording to one type by giving people works to read of
one tendency. A conception of life is only obtained from
life itself, in its entirety, of which literature and human
thought are but an infinitesimal part. No theory of life
can help one to such a conception, for this depends upon
the mood or frame of mind of each individual, which is
consequently apt to vary so long as man lives. Thus,
it is impossible to form such a hard and fast conception
of life as you seem anxious to . . ."

" Нолу do you mean — ' impossible ' ? " cried Yourii
angrily.

Sanine again looked bored, as he answered :

" Of course it's impossible. If a conception of life
were the outcome of a complete, definite theory, then the
progress of human thought would soon be arrested ; in
fact it would cease. But such a thing is inadmissible.
Every moment of life speaks its new word, its new message
to us, and, to this we must listen and understand it,
without first of all fixing limits for ourselves. After
all, what's the good of discussing it ? Think what you
like. I would merely ask why you, who have read
hundreds of books from Ecclesiastes to Marx, have not
yet been able to form any definite conception of life ? " ;

" Why do you suppose that I have not ? " asked Yourii,
and his dark eyes flashed menacingly. " Perhaps my
conception of life may be a wrong one, but I have it."

" Very well, then," said Sanine, " why seek to acquire
another ? "

Pistzoff tittered.

" Hush ! " cried Koudriavji contemptuously, as his
neck twitched.

" How clever he is ! " thought Sina Karsavina, full off
naive admiration for Sanine. She looked at him, and
then at Svarogitsch, feeling almost bashful, and yet
strangely glad. It was as if the two disputants were
arguing as to who should possess her.

196 SANINE

" Thus, it follows," continued Sanine, " that you do
not need what you are vainly seeking. To me it is evident
that every person here to-night is endeavouring to force
the others to accept his views, being himself mortally
afraid lest others should persuade him to think as they
do. Well, to be quite frank, that is boring."

" One moment ! Allow me ! " exclaimed Goschienko.

" Oh ! that will do ! " said Sanine, with a gesture of
annoyance. " I expect that you have a most wonderful
conception of life, and have read heaps of books. One
can see that directly. Yet you lose your temper because
everybody doesn't agree with you ; and, what is more,
you behave rudely to Soloveitchik, who has certainly
never done you any harm."

Goschienko was silent, looking utterly amazed, as if
Sanine had said something most extraordinary.

" Yourii Nicolaijevitch," said Sanine cheerily, " you
must not be angry with me because I spoke somewhat
bluntly just now. I can see that in your soul discord
reigns."

" Discord ? " exclaimed Yourii, reddening. He did
not know whether he ought to be angry or not. Just as
it had done during their walk to the meeting, Sanine's
calm, friendly voice pleasantly impressed him.

" Ah ! you know yourself that it is so ! " replied Sanine,
with a smile. " But it won't do to pay any attention to
such childish nonsense. Life's really too short."

" Look here," shouted Goschienko, purple with rage,
" You take far too much upon yourself ! "

" Not more than you do."

" How's that ? "

" Think it out for yourself," said Sanine. " What you
say and do is far ruder and more unamiable than any-
thing that I say."

" I don't understand you ! "

" That's not my fault."

" What ? "

To this Sanine made no reply, but taking up his cap,
said :

" I'm off. It is getting a bit too dull for me."

S A N I N E 197

" You're right ! And there's no more beer ! " added
Ivanoff, as he moved towards the ante-room.

" We shan't get along like this ; that's very clear,"
said Dubova.

" Walk back with me, Yourii Nicolaijevitch," cried Sina.

Then, turning to Sanine, she said " Au re voir ! "

For a moment their eyes met. Sina felt pleasurably
alarmed.

" Alas ! " cried Dubova, as she went out, " our little
club has collapsed before it has even been properly
started."

" But why is that ? " said a mournful voice, as
Soloveitchik, who was getting in every one's way, stumbled
forward.

Until this moment his existence had been ignored, and
many were struck by the forlorn expression of his coun-
tenance.

" I say, Soloveitchik," said Sanine pensively, " one
day I must come and see you, and we'll have a chat."

" By all means ! Pray do so ! " said Soloveitchik,
bowing effusively.

On coming out of the lighted room, the darkness
seemed so intense that nobody was able to see anybody
else, and only voices were recognizable. The two work-
men kept aloof from the others, and, when they were
at some distance, Pistzoff laughed and said :

" It's always like that, with them. They meet together,
and are going to do such wonders, and then each wants
to have it his own way. That big chap was the only
one I liked."

"A lot you understand when clever folk of that sort
talk together ! " replied Koudriavji testily, twisting his
neck about as if he were being throttled.

Pistzoff whistled mockingly in lieu of answer.

XXVI

Soloveitchik stood at the door for some time, looking
up to the starless sky and rubbing his thin fingers.

The wind whistled round the gloomy tin-roofed sheds,
bending the tree-tops that were huddled together like a
troop of ghosts. Overhead, as if driven by some resistless
force, the clouds raced onward, ever onward. They formed
black masses against the horizon, some being piled up to
insuperable heights. It was as though, far away in the
distance, they were awaited by countless armies that,
with sable banners all unfurled, had gone forth in their
dreadful might to some wild conflict of the elements.
From time to time the restless wind seemed to bring with it
the clamour of the distant fray.

With childish awe Soloveitchik gazed upwards. Never
before had he felt how small he was, how puny, how
almost infinitesimal when confronted with this tremen-
dous chaos.

" My God ! My God ! " he sighed.

In the presence of the sky and the night he was not the
same man as when among his fellows. There was not a
trace of that restless, awkward manner, now ; the un-
sightly teeth were concealed by the sensitive lips of a
youthful Jew in whose dark eyes the expression was
grave and sad.

He went slowly indoors, extinguished an unnecessary
lamp, and clumsily set the table and the chairs in their
places again. The room was still full of tobacco-smoke,
and the floor was covered with cigarette ends and matches.

Soloveitchik at once fetched a broom and began to
sweep out the rooms, for he took a pride in keeping his
little home clean and neat. Then he got a bucket of
water from a cupboard, and broke bread into it. Carrying
this in one hand, the other being outstretched to main-
tain his balance, he walked across the yard, taking short
steps. In order to see better, he had placed a lamp close
to the window, yet it was so dark in the yard that Solo-

198

SANINE 199

veitchik felt relieved when he reached the dog's kennel.
Sultan's shaggy form, invisible in the gloom, advanced to
meet him, and a chain rattled ominously.

"Ah! Sultan! Kusch ! Kusch ! " exclaimed
Soloveitehik, in order to give himself courage. In the
darkness, Sultan thrust his cold, moist nose into his
master's hand.

" There you are ! " said Soloveitehik, as he set down
the bucket.

Sultan sniffed, and began to eat voraciously, while his
master stood beside him and gazed mournfully at the
surrounding gloom.

" Ah ! what can I do ? " he thought. " How can I
force people to alter their opinions ? I myself expected
to be told how to live, and how to think. God has not
given me the voice of a prophet, so, in what way can I
help ? "

Sultan gave a grunt of satisfaction.

" Eat away, old boy, eat away ! " said Soloveitehik.
" I would let you loose for a little run, but I haven't got
the key, and I'm so tired." Then to himself, "What clever,
well-informed people those are ! They know such a lot ;
good Christians, very likely ; and here am I. . . . Ah !
well, perhaps it's my own fault. I should have liked to
say a word to them, but I didn't know how to do it."

From the distance, beyond the town, there came the
sound of a long, plaintive whistle. Sultan raised his head,
and listened. Large drops fell from his muzzle into the
pail.

'" Eat away," said Soloveitehik, " That's the train ! "

Sultan heaved a sigh.

" I wonder if men will ever live like that ! Perhaps
they can't," said Soloveitehik aloud, as he shrugged his
shoulders, despairingly. There, in the darkness he
imagined that he could see a multitude of men, vast,
unending as eternity, sinking ever deeper in the gloom ;
a succession of centuries without beginning and without
end ; an unbroken chain of wanton suffering for which
remedy there was none ; and, on high, where God dwelt,
silence, eternal silence.

200

SANINE

Sultan knocked against the pail, and upset it. Then,
as he wagged his tail, the chain rattled slightly.

" Gobbled it all up, eh ? "

Soloveitchik patted the dog's shaggy coat and felt
its warm body writhe in joyous response to his touch.
Then he went back to the house.

He could hear Sultan's chain rattle, and the yard
seemed less gloomy than before, while blacker and more
sinister was the mill with its tall chimney and narrow
sheds that looked like coffins. From the window a
broad ray of light fell across the garden, illuminating in
mystic fashion the frail little flowers that shrank beneath
the turbulent heaven with its countless banners, black
and ominous, unfolded to the night.

Overcome by grief, unnerved by a sense of solitude
and of some irreparable loss, Soloveitchik went back
into his room, sat down at the table, and wept.

XXVII

Volochine owned immense works in St. Petersburg
upon which the existence of thousands of his employes
depended.

At the present time, while a strike was in progress,
he had turned his back upon the crowd of hungry, dirty
malcontents, and was enjoying a trip in the provinces.
Libertine as he was, he thought of nothing but women,
and in young, fresh, provincial women he displayed an
intense, in fact, an absorbing interest. He pictured them
as delightfully shy and timid, yet sturdy as a woodland
mushroom, and their provocative perfume of youth and
purity he scented from afar.

Volochine had clothed his puny little body in virgin
white, after sprinkling himself from head to foot with
various essences ; and, although he did not exactly
approve of Sarudine's society, he hailed a droschky and
hastened to the latter's rooms.

Sarudine was sitting at the window, drinking cold tea.

" What a lovely evening ! " he kept saying to himself,
as he looked out on the garden. But his thoughts were
elsewhere. He felt ashamed and afraid.

He was afraid of Lida. Since their interview, he had
not set eyes on her. To him she seemed another Lida now,
unlike the one that had surrendered to his passion.

" Anyhow," he thought, " the matter is not at an end
yet. The child must be got rid of ... or shall I treat
the whole thing as a joke ? I wonder what she is doing
now ? "

He seemed to see before him Lida's handsome, inscru-
table eyes, and her lips tightly compressed, vindictive,
menacing.

" She may be going to pay me out ? A girl of that
sort isn't one to be trifled with. At all costs I shall have
to . . ."

The prospect of a huge scandal vaguely suggested
itself, striking terror to his craven heart.

201

202 S A N I N E

" After all," he thought, " what could she possibly
do ? " Then suddenly it all seemed quite clear and
simple. " Perhaps she'll drown herself ? Let her go to
the deuce ! I didn't force her to do it ! They'll say
that she was my mistress — well, what of that ? It only
proves that I am a good-looking fellow. I never said that
I would marry her. Upon my word, it's too silly ! "
Sarudine shrugged his shoulders, yet the sense of oppres-
sion was not lessened. " People will talk, I expect, and
I shan't be able to show myself," he thought, while his
hand trembled slightly as he held the glass of cold, over-
sweetened tea to his lips.

He was as smart and well-groomed and scented as ever,
yet it seemed as if, on his face, his white jacket, and his
hands, and even on his heart, there was a foul stain which
became even greater.

" Bah ! After a while it will all blow over. And it's
not the first time, either ! " Thus he sought to soothe his
conscience, but an inward voice refused to accept such
consolation.

Volochine entered gingerly, his boots creaking loudly,
and his discoloured teeth revealed by a condescending
smile. The room was instantly filled with an odour of
musk and of tobacco, quite overpowering the fresh scents
of the garden.

" Ah ! how do you do, Pavel Lvovitsch ! " cried
Sarudine as he hastily rose.

Volochine shook hands, sat down by the window and
proceeded to light a cigar. He looked so elegant and
self-possessed, that Sarudine felt somewhat envious,
and endeavoured to assume an equally careless demeanour ;
but ever since Lida had flung the word " brute " in his
face, he had felt ill at ease, as if every one had heard the
insult and was secretly mocking him.

Volochine smiled, and chatted about various trifling
matters. Yet he found it difficult to keep up such super-
ficial conversation. " Woman " was the theme that he
longed to approach, and it underlay all his stale jokes
and stories of the strike at his St. Petersburg factory.
As he lighted another cigar he took the opportunity

S A N I N E 203

looking hard at Sarudine. Their eyes met, and they
instantly understood each other. Volochine adjusted
his pince-nez and smiled a smile that found its reflection
in Sarudine's face which suddenly acquired a look of
lust.

" I don't expect you waste much of your time, do
you ? " said Volochine, with a knowing wink.

" Oh ! as for that, well, what else is there to do ? "
replied Sarudine, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

Then they both laughed, and for a while were silent.
Volochine was eager to have details of the other's con-
quests. A little vein just below his left knee throbbed
convulsively. Sarudine, however, was not thinking
of such piquant details, but of the distressing events of
the last few days. He turned towards the garden and
drummed with his ringers on the window-sill.

Yet Volochine was evidently waiting, and Sarudine
felt that he must keep to the desired theme of conversa-
tion.

" Of course, I know," he began, with an exaggerated
air of nonchalance, " I know that to you men-about-
town these country wenches are extraordinarily attrac-
tive. But you're wrong. They're fresh and plump, it's
true, but they've no chic ; they don't know how to make
love artistically."

In a moment Volochine was all animation. His eyes
sparkled, and there was a change in the tone of his voice.

" No, that's quite true. But after a while all that sort
of thing is apt to become boring. Our Petersburg women
are not well made. You know what I mean ? They're
just bundles of nerves ; they've no limbs on them.
Now here ..."

" Yes, you're right," said Sarudine, growing interested
in his turn, as he twirled his moustache complacently.

" Take off her corset, and the smartest Petersburg
woman becomes — Oh ! by the way, have you heard
the latest ? " said Volochine, interrupting himself.

" No, I dare say not," replied Sarudine, leaning for-
ward, eagerly.
" Well," said the other, " it's an awfully good story

204 S A N I N E

about a Parisian cocotte." Then, with much wealth of
detail, Volochine proceeded to relate a spicy anecdote
that pleased his companion vastly.

44 Yes," said Volochine in conclusion, as he rolled his
eyes, " shape's everything in a woman. If she hasn't
got that, well, for me she simply doesn't exist."

Sarudine thought of Lida's beauty, and he shrank
from discussing it with Volochine. However, after a
pause, he observed with much affectation :

44 Every one to his taste. What I like most in a woman
is the back ; that sinuous line, don't you know. ..."

44 Yes," drawled Volochine nervously.

44 Some women, especially very young ones, have got ..."

The orderly now entered treading clumsily in his
heavy boots. He had come to light the lamp, and during
the process of striking matches and jingling the glass
shade, Sarudine and Volochine were silent.

As the flame of the lamp rose, only their glittering
eyes and the glowing cigarette-ends could be seen. When
the soldier had gone out, they returned to their subject,
the word 44 Woman " forming the theme of talk that
became at times grotesque in its obscenity. Sarudine's
instinctive longing to boast, and to eclipse Volochine
led him at last to speak of the splendid woman who had
yielded to his charms, and gradually to reveal his own
secret lasciviousness. Before the eyes of Volochine, Lida
was exhibited as in a state of nudity, her physical attri-
butes and her passion all being displayed as though she
were some animal for sale at a fair. By their filthy
thoughts she was touched and polluted and held up to
ridicule. Their love of woman knew no gratitude for the
enjoyment given to them ; they merely strove to humiliate
and insult the sex, to inflict upon it indescribable pain.

The smoke-laden atmosphere of the room had become
stifling. Their bodies at fever heat, exhaled an un-
wholesome odour, as their eyes gleamed and their voices
sounded shrill and rabid as those of wild beasts.

Beyond the window lay the calm, clear moonlit night.
But for them the world with all its wealth of colour and
sound had vanished ; all that their eyes beheld was a

S A N I N E 205

vision of woman in her nude loveliness. Soon their
imagination became so heated that they felt a burning
desire to see Lida, whom now they had dubbed Lidka,
by way of being familiar. Sarudine had the horses
harnessed, and they drove to a house situated on the
outskirts of the town.

XXVIII

A letter sent by Sarudine to Lida on the day following
their interview fell by chance into Maria Ivanovna's
hands. It contained a request for the permission to see
her, and awkwardly suggested that sundry matters might
be satisfactorily arranged. Its pages cast, so Maria
Ivanovna thought, an ugly, shameful shadow upon the
pure image of her daughter. In her first perplexity and
distress, she remembered her own youth with its love,
its deceptions, and the grievous episodes of her married
life. A long chain of suffering forged by a life based
on rigid laws of morality dragged its slow length along,
even to the confines of old age. It was like a grey
band, marred in places by monotonous days of care and
disappointment.

Yet the thought that her daughter had broken through
the solid wall surrounding this grey, dusty life, and had
plunged into the lurid whirlpool where joy and sorrow
and death were mingled, filled the old woman with
horror and rage.

" Vile, wicked girl ! " she thought, as despairingly
she let her hands fall into her lap. Suddenly it consoled
her to imagine that possibly things had not gone too far,
and her face assumed a dull, almost a cunning expression.
She read and re-read the letter, yet could gather nothing
from its frigid, affected style.

Feeling how helpless she was, the old woman wept
bitterly ; and then, having set her cap straight, she
asked the maid-servant :

" Dounika, is Vladimir Petrovitch at home ? "

" What ? " shouted Dounika.

" Fool ! I asked if the young gentleman was at home."

" He's just gone into the study. He's writing a letter ! "
replied Dounika, looking radiant, as if this letter were the
reason for unusual rejoicing.

Maria Ivanovna looked hard at the girl, and an e
light flashed from her faded eves.

206

S A N I N E 207

" Toad ! if you dare to fetch and carry letters again,
I'll give you a lesson that you'll never forget."

Sanine was seated at the table, writing. His mother
was so little used to seeing him write, that, in spite of her
grief, she was interested.

" What's that you're writing ? "

" A letter," replied Sanine, looking up, gaily.

" To whom ? "

" Oh ! to a journalist I know. I think of joining the
staff of his paper."

" So you write for the papers ? "

Sanine smiled. " I do everything."

" But why do you want to go there ? "

" Because I'm tired of living here with you, mother,"
said Sanine frankly.

Maria Ivanovna felt somewhat hurt.

" Thank you," she said.

Sanine looked attentively at her, and felt inclined
to tell her not to be so silly as to imagine that a man,
especially one who had no employment, could care to
remain always in the same place. But it irked him to
have to say such a thing ; and he was silent.

Maria Ivanovna took out her pocket-handkerchief
and crumpled it nervously in her fingers. If it
had not been for Sarudine's letter and her conse-
quent distress and anxiety, she would have bitterly
resented her son's rudeness. But, as it was, she merely
said :

" Ah ! yes, the one slinks out of the house like a wolf,
and the other ..."

A gesture of resignation completed the sentence.

Sanine looked up quickly, and put down his pen.

" What do you know about it ? " he asked.

Suddenly Maria Ivanovna felt ashamed that she had
read the letter to Lida. Turning very red, she replied
unsteadily, but with some irritation ;

" Thank God, I am not blind ! I can see."

" See ? You can see nothing," said Sanine, after a
moment's reflection, " and, to prove it allow me to
congratulate you on the engagement of your daughter.

208 S A N I N E

She was going to tell you herself, but, after all, it comes
to the same thing."

" What ! " exclaimed Maria Ivanovna, drawing herself
up. " Lida is going to be married ! "

44 To whom ? "

" To Novikoff, of course."

44 Yes, but what about Sarudine ? "

44 Oh ! he can go to the devil ! " exclaimed Sanine
angrily. 44 What's that to do with you ? Why meddle
with other people's affairs ? "

44 Yes, but I don't quite understand, Volodja ! " said
his mother, bewildered, while yet in her heart she could
hear the joyous refrain, 44 Lida's going to be married,
going to be married ! "

Sanine shrugged his shoulders.

44 What is that you don't understand ? She was in
love with one man, and now she's in love with another ;
and to-morrow she'll be in love with a third. Well,
God bless her ! "

44 What's that you say ? " cried Maria Ivanovna
indignantly.

Sanine leant against the table and folded his arms.

44 In the course of your life did you yourself only love
one man ? " he asked angrily.

Maria Ivanovna rose. Her wrinkled face wore a look
of chilling pride.

44 One shouldn't speak to one's mother like that,"
she said sharply.

44 Who ? "

44 How do you mean, who ? "

44 Who shouldn't speak? " said Sanine, as he looked at her
from head to foot. For the first time he noticed how dull
and vacant was the expression in her eyes, and how absurdly
her cap was placed upon her head, like a cock's comb.

44 Nobody ought to speak to me like that !" she said
huskily.

44 Anyhow, I've done so ! " replied Sanine, recovering
his good temper, and resuming his pen.

44 You've had your share of life," he said, 4' and уои'т
no right to prevent Lida from having hers."

S A N I N E 209

Maria Ivanovna said nothing, but stared in amazement
at her son, while her cap looked droller than ever.

She hastily checked all memories of her past youth with
its joyous nights of love, fixing upon this one question in
her mind. " How dare he speak thus to his mother ? "
Yet before she could come to any decision, Sanine turned
round, and taking her hand said kindly :

" Don't let that worry you, but, you must keep
Sarudine out of the house, for the fellow's quite capable
of playing us a dirty trick."

Maria Ivanovna was at once appeased.

" God bless you, my boy," she said. " I am very
glad, for I have always liked Sacha Novikoff. Of course,
we can't receive Sarudine ; it wouldn't do, because of
Sacha."

" No, just that ! Because of Sacha," said Sanine with
a humorous look in his eyes.

" And where is Lida ? " asked his mother.

" In her room."

" And Sacha ? " She pronounced the pet name lovingly.

"I really don't know. He went to . . ." At that
moment Dounika appeared in the doorway, and said :

" Victor Serge jevitsch is here, and another gentleman."

" Turn them out of the house," said Sanine.

Dounika smiled sheepishly.

" Oh ! Sir, I can't do that, can I ? "

" Of course you can ! What business brings them
here ? "

Dounika hid her face, and went out.

Drawing herself up to her full height, Maria Ivanovna
seemed almost younger, though her eyes looked
malevolent. With astonishing ease her point of view had
undergone a complete change, as if by playing a trump
card she had suddenly scored. Kindly as her feelings
for Sarudine had been while she hoped to have him as a
son-in-law, they swiftly cooled when she realized that
another was to marry Lida, and that Sarudine had only
made love to her.

As his mother turned to go, Sanine, who noticed her
stony profile and forbidding expression, said to himself,

о

210 SANINE

" There's an old hen for you ! " Folding up his letter
he followed her out, curious to see what turn matters
would take.

With exaggerated politeness Sarudine and Volochine
rose to salute the old lady, yet the former showed none
of his wonted ease of manner when at the Sanines'.
Volochine indeed felt slightly uncomfortable, because he
had come expressly to see Lida, and was obliged to
conceal his intention.

Despite his simulated ease, Sarudine looked obviously
anxious. He felt that he ought not to have come. He
dreaded meeting Lida, yet he could on no account let
Volochine see this, to whom he wished to pose as a gay
Lothario.

" Dear Maria Ivanovna," began Sarudine, smiling
affectedly, " allow me to introduce to you my good friend,
Paul Lvovitch Volochine."

" Charmed ! " said Maria Ivanovna, with frigid polite-
ness, and Sarudine observed the hostile look in her eyes,
which somewhat unnerved him. " We ought not to
have come," he thought, at last aware of the fact, which
in Volochine's society he had forgotten. Lida might
come in at any moment, Lida, the mother of his child ;
what should he say to her ? How should he look her in
the face ? Perhaps her mother knew all ? He fidgeted
nervously on his chair ; lit a cigarette, shrugged his
shoulders, moved his legs, and looked about him right
and left.

" Are you making a long stay ? " asked Maria Ivanovna
of Volochine, in a cold, formal voice.

" Oh ! no," he replied, as he stared complacently
at this provincial person, thrusting his cigar into the
corner of his mouth so that the smoke rose right into her
face.

" It must be rather dull for you, here, after Petersburg."
" On the contrary, I think it is delightful. There is
something so patriarchal about this little town."

" You ought to visit the environs, which are charming
for excursions and picnics. There's boating and bathing,
too"

SANINE 211

" Of course, madam, of course ! " drawled Volochine,
who was already somewhat bored.

The conversation languished, and they all seemed to
be wearing smiling masks behind which lurked hostile
eyes. Volochine winked at Sarudine in the most un-
mistakable manner ; and this was not lost upon Sanine,
who from his corner was watching them closely.

The thought that Volochine would no longer regard
him as a smart, dashing, dare-devil sort of fellow gave
Sarudine some of his old assurance.

" And where is Lidia Petrovna ? " he asked carelessly.

Maria Ivanovna looked at him in surprise and anger.
Her eyes seemed to say : " What is that to you, since
you are not going to marry her ? "

" I don't know. Probably in her room," she coldly
replied.

Volochine shot another glance at his companion.

" Can't you manage to make Lida come down quickly ? "
it said. " This old woman's becoming a bore."

Sarudine opened his mouth and feebly twisted his
moustache.

" I have heard so many flattering things about your
daughter," began Volochine, smiling, and rubbing his
hands, as he bent forward to Maria Ivanovna, " that I
hope to have the honour of being introduced to her."

Maria Ivanovna wondered what this insolent little
roue could have heard about her own pure Lida, her
darling child, and again she had a terrible presentiment
of the latter' s downfall. It utterly unnerved her, and
for the moment her eyes had a softer, more human
expression.

" If they are not turned out of the house," thought
Sanine, at this juncture, " they will only cause further
distress to Lida and Novikoff."

" I hear that you are going away ? " he suddenly said,
looking pensively at the floor.

Sarudine wondered that so simple an expedient had
not occurred to him before. " That's it ! A good idea.
Two months' leave ! " he thought, before hastily replying.

" Yes, I was thinking of doing so. One wants a change,

212 SANINE

you know. By stopping too long in one place, you are
apt to get rusty."

Sanine laughed outright. The whole conversation,
not one word of which expressed their real thoughts
and feelings, all this deceit, which deceived nobody,
amused him immensely ; and with a sudden sense of
gaiety and freedom he got up, and said :

" Well, I should think that the sooner you went, the
better ! "

In a moment as if from each a stiff, heavy garb had
fallen off, the other three persons became changed.
Maria Ivanovna looked pale and shrunken, Volochine's
eyes expressed animal fear, and Sarudine slowly and
irresolutely rose.

" What do you mean ? " he asked in a hoarse voice.
Volochine tittered, and looked about nervously for his
hat.

Sanine did not reply to the question, but maliciously
handed Volochine the hat. From the latter's open mouth
a stifled sound escaped like a plaintive squeak.

" What do you mean by that ? " cried Sarudine
angrily, aware that he was losing his temper. " A
scandal ! " he thought to himself.

" I mean what I say," replied Sanine. " Your presence
here is utterly unnecessary, and we shall all be delighted
to see the last of you."

Sarudine took a step forward. He looked extremely
uncomfortable, and his white teeth gleamed threateningly,
like those of a wild beast.

" Aha ! That's it, is it ? " he muttered, breathing hard.
" Get out ! " said Sanine contemptuously, yet in so
terrible a tone that Sarudine glared, and voluntarily
drew back.

" I don't know what the deuce it all means ! " said
Volochine, under his breath, as with shoulders raised he
hurried to the door.

But there, in the door-way, stood Lida. She was
dressed in a style quite different from her usual one.
Instead of a fashionable coiffure, she wore her hair in a
thick plait hanging down her back. Instead of an elegant

SANINE 213

costume she was wearing a loose gown of diaphanous
texture, the simplicity of which alluringly heightened the
beauty of her form.

As she smiled, her likeness to Sanine became more
remarkable, and, in her sweet, girlish voice she said calmly :

" Here I am. Why are you hurrying away ? Victor
Serge jevitsch, do put down your cap ! "

Sanine was silent, and looked at his sister in amaze-
ment. " Whatever does she mean ? " he thought to
himself.

As soon as she appeared, a mysterious influence, at
once irresistible and tender, seemed to make itself felt.
Like a lion-tamer in a cage filled with wild beasts, Lida
stood there, and the men at once became gentle and
submissive.

" Well, do you know, Lidia Petrovna . . ." stammered
Sarudine.

At the sound of his voice, Lida's face assumed a plain-
tive, helpless expression, and as she glanced swiftly at
him there was great grief at her heart not unmixed with
tenderness and hope. Yet in a moment such feelings
were effaced by a fierce desire to show Sarudine how
much he had lost in losing her ; to let him see that she
was still beautiful, in spite of all the sorrow and shame
that he had caused her to endure.

" I don't want to know anything," she replied in an
imperious, almost a stagy voice, as for a moment she
closed her eyes.

Upon Volochine, her appearance produced an extra-
ordinary effect, as his sharp little tongue darted out
from his dry lips, and his eyes grew smaller and his
whole frame vibrated from sheer physical excitement.

" You haven't introduced us," said Lida, looking
round at Sarudine.

" Volochine . . . Pavel Lvovitsch . . ." stammered the
officer.

" And this beauty," he said to himself, " was my
mistress." He felt honestly pleased to think this, at
the same time being anxious to show off before Volochine,
while yet bitterly conscious of an irrevocable loss.

214 S A N I N E

Lida languidly addressed her mother.

" There is some one who wants to speak to you,"
she said.

" Oh ! I can't go now," replied Maria Ivanovna.

" But they are waiting," persisted Lida, almost
hysterically.

Maria Ivanovna got up quickly.

Sanine watched Lida, and his nostrils were dilated.

" Won't you come into the garden ? It's so hot in
here," said Lida, and without looking round to sec if
they were coming, she walked out through the veranda.

As if hypnotized, the men followed her, bound, seem-
ingly, with the tresses of her hair, so that she could draw
them whither she wished. Volochine walked first, ensnared
by her beauty, and apparently oblivious of aught else.

Lida sat down in the rocking-chair under the linden-
tree and stretched out her pretty little feet clad in black
open-work stockings and tan shoes. It was as if she had
two natures ; the one overwhelmed with modesty and
shame, the other, full of self-conscious coquetry. The
first nature prompted her to look with disgust upon men,
and life, and herself.

" Well, Pavel Lvovitsch," she asked, as her eyelids
drooped, " What impression has our poor little out-of-
the-way town made upon you ? "

" The impression which probably he experiences who
in the depth of the forest suddenly beholds a radiant
flower," replied Volochine, rubbing his hands.

Then began talk which was thoroughly vapid and
insincere, the spoken being false, and the unspoken,
true. Sanine sat silently listening to this mute but
sincere conversation, as expressed by faces, hands, feet
and tremulous accents. Lida was unhappy, Volochine
longed for all her beauty, while Sarudine loathed Lida,
Sanine, Volochine, and the world generally. He wanted
to go, yet he could not make a move. He was for doing
something outrageous, yet he could only smoke cigarette
after cigarette, while dominated by the desire to proclaim
Lida his mistress to all present,

" And how do you like being here ? Are you not

OL

SANINE 215

sorry to have left Petersburg behind you ? " asked Lida,
suffering meanwhile intense torture, and wondering why
she did not get up and go.

" Mais au contraire ! " lisped Volochine, as he waved
his hand in a finicking fashion and gazed ardently at
Lida.

" Come ! come ! no pretty speeches ! " said Lida,
coquettishly, while to Sarudine her whole being seemed
to say :

" You think that I am wretched, don't you ? and
utterly crushed ? But I am nothing of the kind, my
friend. Look at me ! "

" Oh, Lidia Petrovna ! " said Sarudine, " you surely
don't call that a pretty speech ! "

" I beg your pardon ? " asked Lida drily, as if she had
not heard, and then, in a different tone, she again
addressed Volochine.

" Do tell me something about life in Petersburg.
Here, we don't live, we only vegetate."

Sarudine saw that Volochine was smiling to himself,
as if he did not believe that the former had ever been on
intimate terms with Lida.

" Ah ! Ah ! Ah ! Very good ! " he said to himself,
as he bit his lip viciously.

" Oh ! our famous Petersburg life ! " Volochine, who
chattered with ease, looked like a silly little monkey
babbling of things that it did not comprehend.

" Who knows ? " he thought to himself, his gaze
riveted on Lida's beautiful form.

" I assure you on my word of honour that our life is
extremely dull and colourless. Until to-day I thought
that life, generally, was always dull, whether in the town
or in the country."

" Not really ! " exclaimed Lida, as she half closed her
eyes.

" What makes life worth living is ... a beautiful
woman ! And the women in big towns ! If you could
only see what they were like ! Do you know, I feel
convinced that if the world is ever saved it will be by
beauty." This last phrase Volochine unexpectedly

216 SANINE

added, believing it to be most apt and illuminating.
The expression of his face was one of stupidity and greed,
as he kept reverting to his pet theme, Woman. Sarudine
alternately flushed and pale with jealousy, found it
impossible to remain in one place, but walked restlessly
up and down the path.

" Our women are all alike . . . stereotyped and made-
up. To find one whose beauty is worthy of adoration,
it is to the provinces that one must go, where the soil,
un tilled as yet, produces the most splendid flowers."

Sanine scratched the nape of his neck, and crossed his
legs.

" Ah ! of what good is it if they bloom here, since
there is no one worthy to pluck them ? " replied Lida.

" Aha ! " thought Sanine, suddenly becoming interested,
" so that's what she's driving at ! "

This word-play, where sentiment and grossness were so
obviously involved, he found extremely diverting.

" Is it possible ? "

" Why, of course ! I mean what I say, who is it that
plucks our unfortunate blossoms ? What men are those
whom we set up as heroes ? " rejoined Lida bitterly.

" Aren't you rather too hard upon us ? " asked
Sarudine.

" No, Lidia Petrovna is right ! " exclaimed Volochinc,
but, glancing at Sarudine, his eloquence suddenly
subsided. Lida laughed outright. Filled with shame
and grief and revenge, her burning eyes were set on her
seducer, and seemed to pierce him through and through.
Volochine again began to babble, while Lida interrupted
him with laughter that concealed her tears.

" I think that we ought to be going," said Sarudine,
at last, who felt that the situation was becoming intoler-
able. He could not tell why, but everything, Lida's
laughter, her scornful eyes and trembling hands were all
to him as so many secret boxes on the ear. His growing
hatred of her, and his jealousy of Volochine as well as
the consciousness of all that he had lost, served to exhaust
him utterly.

" Already ? " asked Lida.

SANINE 217

Volochine smiled sweetly, licking his lips with the tip of
his tongue.

" It can't be helped ! Victor Serge jevitsch apparently
is not quite himself," he said in a mocking tone, proud
of his conquest.

So they took their leave ; and, as Sarudine bent
over Lida's hand, he whispered :

" This is good-bye ! "

Never had he hated Lida as much as at this moment.

In Lida's heart there arose a vague, fleeting desire to
bid tender farewell to all those bygone hours of love which
had once been theirs. But this feeling she swiftly re-
pressed, as she said in a loud, harsh voice :

" Good-bye ! Bon voyage ! Don't forget us, Pavel
Lvovitsch ! "

As they were going, Volochine's remark could be
distinctly heard.

" How charming she is ! She intoxicates one, like
champagne ! "

When they had gone, Lida sat down again in the rocking-
chair. Her position was a different one, now, for she bent
forward, trembling all over, and her silent tears fell fast.

" Come, come ! What's the matter ? " said Sanine,
as he took hold of her hand.

" Oh ! don't ! What an awful thing life is ! " she
exclaimed, as her head sank lower, and she covered her
face with her hands, while the soft plait of hair,
slipping over her shoulder, hung down in front.

" For shame ! " said Sanine. " What's the use of
crying about such trifles ? "

" Are there really no other . . . better men, then ? "
murmured Lida.

Sanine smiled.

" No, certainly not. Man is vile by nature. Expect
nothing good from him. . . . And then the harm that he
does to you will not make you grieve."

Lida looked up at him with beautiful tear-stained eyes.

" Do you expect nothing good from your fellow-men,
either ? "

" Of course not," replied Sanine, " I live alone."

XXIX

On the following day Dounika, bare-headed and bare-
footed, came running to Sanine who was gardening.

" Vladimir Petrovitch," she exclaimed, and her silly
face had a scared look, " the officers have come, and they
wish to speak to you." She repeated the words like a
lesson that she had learnt by heart.

Sanine was not surprised. He had been expecting a
challenge from Sarudine.

" Are they very anxious to see me?" he asked in a
jocular tone.

Dounika, however, must have had an inkling of some-
thing dreadful, for instead of hiding her face she gazed
at Sanine in sympathetic bewilderment.

Sanine propped his spade against a tree, tightened his
belt and walked towards the house with his usual jaunty
step.

" What fools they are ! What absolute idiots ! " he
said to himself, as he thought of Sarudine and his seconds.
By this no insult was intended ; it was just the sincere
expression of his own opinion.

Passing through the house, he saw Lida coming out of
her room. She stood on the threshold ; her face white
as a shroud, and her eyes, anxious and distressful. Her
lips moved, yet no sound escaped from them. At that
moment she felt that she was the guiltiest, most miserable
woman in all the world.

In an arm-chair in the morning-room sat Maria Ivan-
ovna, looking utterly helpless and panic-stricken. Her
cap that resembled a cock's comb was poised sideways
on her head, and she gazed in terror at Sanine, unable to
utter a word. He smiled at her and was inclined to
stop for a moment, yet he preferred to proceed.

Tanaroff and Von Deitz were sitting in the drawing-
room bolt upright, with their heads close together, as if
in their white tunics and tight riding-breeches they felt
extremely uncomfortable. As Sanine entered thev both

218

S A N I N E 219

rose slowly and with some hesitation, apparently uncer-
tain how to behave.

" Good day, gentlemen," said Sanine in a loud voice,
as he held out his hand.

Von Deitz hesitated, but Tanaroff bowed in such an
exaggerated way that for an instant Sanine caught sight
of the closely cropped hair at the back of his neck.

44 HowT can I be of service to you ? " continued Sanine,
who had noticed Tanaroff's excessive politeness, and was
surprised at the assurance with which he played his part
in this absurd comedy.

Von Deitz drew himself up and sought to give an
expression of hauteur to his horse-like countenance ;
unsuccessfully, however, owing to his confusion. Strange
to say, it was Tanaroff, usually so stupid and shy, who
addressed Sanine in firm, decisive fashion.

M Our friend, Victor Sergejevitsch Sarudine has done
us the honour of asking us to represent him in a certain
matter which concerns you and himself." The sentence
was delivered with automatic precision.

" Oho ! " said Sanine with comic gravity, as he opened
his mouth wide.

" Yes, sir," continued Tanaroff, frowning slightly.
" He considers that your behaviour towards him was not
— er — quite ..."

" Yes, yes, I understand," interrupted Sanine, losing
patience.

" I very nearly kicked him out of the house, so that
4 not — er — quite ' is hardly the right way of putting it."

The speech was lost upon Tanaroff, who went on :

44 Well, sir, he insists on your taking back your words."

44 Yes, yes," chimed in the lanky Von Deitz, who kept
shifting the position of his feet, like a stork.

Sanine smiled.

44 Take them back? How can I do that? 4 As
uncaged bird is spoken word Г "

Too perplexed to reply, Tanaroff looked Sanine full* in
the face.

44 What evil eyes he has ! " thought the latter.

" This is no joking matter," began Tanaroff, looking

220 S A N I N E

flushed and angry. " Are you prepared to retract your
words, or are you not ? "

Sanine at first was silent.

" What an utter idiot ! " he thought, as he took a chair
and sat down.

" Possibly I might be willing to retract my words in
order to please and pacify Sarudine," he began, speaking
seriously, " the more so as I attach not the slightest im-
portance to them. But, in the first place, Sarudine,
being a fool, would not understand my motive, and,
instead of holding his tongue, would brag about it. In
the second place, I thoroughly dislike Sarudine, so that,
under these circumstances, I don't see that there is any
sense in my retractation."

" Very well, then . . ." hissed Tanaroff through his
teeth.

Von Deitz stared in amazement, and his long face
turned yellow.

" In that case ..." began Tanaroff, in a louder and
would-be threatening tone.

Sanine felt fresh hatred for the fellow as he looked at
his narrow forehead and his tight breeches.

" Yes, yes, I know all about it," he interrupted. " But
one thing, let me tell you ; I don't intend to fight
Sarudine."

Von Deitz turned round sharply.

Tanaroff drew himself up, and said in a tone of con-
tempt.

" Why not, pray ? "

Sanine burst out laughing. His hatred had vanished
as swiftly as it had come.

" Well, this is why. First of all, I have no wish to
kill Sarudine, and secondly, I have even less desire to
be killed myself."

" But ..." began Tanaroff scornfully.

" I won't, and there's an end of it ! " said Sanine, as
he rose. " Why, indeed ? I don't feel inclined to give
you anv explanation. That were too much to expect,
really ! "

Tanaroff 's profound contempt for the man who refused

SANINE 221

to fight a duel was blended with the implicit belief that
only an officer could possibly possess the pluck and the
fine sense of honour necessary to do such a thing. That
is why Sanine's refusal did not surprise him in the least ;
in fact, he was secretly pleased.

" That is your affair," he said, in an unmistakably
contemptuous tone, " but I must warn you that . . ."

Sanine laughed.

" Yes, yes, I know, but I advise Sarudine not to . . ."

" Not to — what ? " asked Tanaroff, as he picked up
lus cap from the window-sill.

" I advise him not to touch me, or else I'll give him
such a thrashing that . . ."

" Look here ! " cried Von Deitz, in a fury. " I'm not
going to stand this . . . You . . . you are simply
laughing at us. Don't you understand that to refuse to
accept a challenge is . . . is . . ."

He was as red as a lobster, his eyes were starting from
his head, and there was foam on his lips.

Sanine looked curiously at his mouth, and said :

" And this is the man whose calls himself a disciple of
Tolstoi ! "

Von Deitz winced, and tossed his head.

" 1 must beg of you," he spluttered, ashamed all the
while at thus addressing a man with whom till now he
had been on friendly terms. " I must beg of you not to
mention that. It has nothing whatever to do with this
matter."

" Hasn't it ! though ? " replied Sanine. " It has a
great deal to do with it."

" Yes, but I must ask you," croaked Von Deitz, be-
coming hysterical.

" Really, this is too much ! In short ..."

" Oh ! That'll do ! replied Sanine, drawing back in
disgust from Von Deitz, from whose mouth saliva spurted.
" Think what you like ; I don't care. And tell Sarudine
that he is an ass ! " *

" You've no right, sir, I say, you've no right," shouted
Von Deitz.

" Very good, very good," said Tanaroff, quite satisfied

222 S A N I N E

" Let us go."

" No ! " cried the other, plaintively, as he waved his
lanky arms. " How dare he ? . . . what business ! . . .
It's simply ..."

Sanine looked at him, and, making a contemptuous
gesture, walked out of the room.

" We will deliver your message to our brother-officer,"
said Tanaroff, calling after him.

" As you please," said Sanine, without looking round.
He could hear Tanaroff trying to pacify the enraged Von
Deitz, and thought to himself, " As a rule the fellow's
an utter fool, but put him on his hobby-horse, and he
becomes quite sensible."

" The matter cannot be allowed to rest thus ! " cried
the implacable Von Deitz, as they went out.

From the door of her room, Lida gently called
" Volodja ! "

Sanine stood still.

" What is it ? "

" Come here ; I want to speak to you."

Sanine entered Lida's little room where, owing to
the trees in front of the window, soft green twilight
reigned. There was a feminine odour of perfume and
powder.

" How nice it is in here," said Sanine, with a sigh of
relief.

Lida stood facing the window, and green reflected
lights from the garden flickered round her cheeks and
shoulders.

" What do you want with me?" he asked kindly.

Lida was silent, and she breathed heavily.

" Why, what is the matter ? "

" Are you — not going to fight a duel ? " she asked
hoarsely, without looking round.

" No."

Lida was silent.

" Well, what of that ? " said Sanine.

Lida's chin trembled. She turned sharply round and
murmured quickly :

" I can't understand that, I can't ..."

S A N I N E 223

" Oh ! " exclaimed Sanine, frowning. " Well, I'm very
sorry for you."

Human stupidity and malice surrounded him on all
sides. To find such qualities alike in bad folk and good
folk, in handsome people as in ugly, proved utterly dis-
heartening.

He turned on his heels and went out.

Lida watched him go, and then, holding her head with
both hands, she flung herself upon the bed. The long
black plait lay at full length along the white coverlet.
At this moment Lida, strong, supple and beautiful in
spite of her despair, looked younger, more full of life than
ever. Through the window came warmth and radiance
from the garden, and the room was bright and pleasant.
Yet of all this Lida saw nothing.

XXX

It was one of those strangely beautiful evenings in late
summer that descend upon earth from the majestic azure
vaults of heaven. The sun had set, but the light was
still distinct, and the air pure and clear. There was a
heavy dew, and the dust which had slowly risen formed
long gauze-like strips of cloud against the sky. The
atmosphere was sultry and yet fresh. Sounds floated
hither and thither, as if borne on rapid wings.

Sanine, hatless, and wearing his blue shirt that at the
shoulders was slightly faded, sauntered along the dusty
road and turned down the little grass-grown side-street
leading to Ivanoff's lodging.

At the window, making cigarettes, sat Ivanoff, broad-
shouldered and sedate, with his long, straw-coloured hair
carefully brushed back. Humid airs floated towards
him from the garden where grass and foliage gained new
lustre in the evening dew. The strong odour of tobacco
was an inducement to sneeze.

" Good evening," said Sanine, leaning on the window-
sill. " Good evening."

44 To-day I have been challenged to fight a duel," said
Sanine.

44 What fun ! " replied Ivanoff carelessly. 44 With
whom, and why ? "

44 With Sarudine. I turned him out of the house, and
he considers himself insulted."

44 Oho ! Then you'll have to meet him," said Ivanoff.
44 I'll be your second, and you shall shoot his nose off."

44 Why ? The nose is a noble part of one's physiognomy.
I am not going to fight," rejoined Sanine, laughing.

Ivanoff nodded.

44 A good thing, too. Duelling is quite unnecessary."

44 My sister Lida doesn't think so," said Sanine.

44 Because she's a goose," replied Ivanoff. 44 What a
lot of tomfoolery people choose to believe, don't they ? "

So saying, he finished making the last cigarette, which

224

S A N I N E 225

he lighted, putting the others in his leather cigarette-
case.

Then he blew away the tobacco left on the window-sill,
and, vaulting over it, joined Sanine.

" What shall we do this evening ? " he asked.

" Let us go and see Soloveitchik," suggested Sanine,

"Oh! no!"

" Why not ? "

" I don't like him. He is such a worm,"

Sanine shrugged his shoulders.

" Not worse than others. Come along."

" All right," said Ivanoff, who always agreed to any
thing that Sanine proposed. So they both went along
the street together.

Soloveitchik, however, was not at home. The door
was shut, and the courtyard dreary and deserted. Only
Sultan rattled his chain and barked at these strangers
who had invaded his yard. " What a ghastly place ! "
exclaimed Ivanoff. " Let us go to the boulevard."

They turned back, shutting the gate after them.
Sultan barked two or three times and then sat in front
of his kennel, sadly gazing at the desolate yard, the
silent mill and the little white footpaths across the
dusty turf.

In the public garden the band was playing, as usual,
and there was a pleasant breeze on the boulevard, where
promenaders abounded. Lit up by bright feminine
toilettes, the dark throng moved now in the direction of
the shady gardens, and now towards the main entrance
of massive stone.

On entering the garden arm-in-arm, Sanine and Ivanoff
instantly encountered Soloveitchik who was walking
pensively along, his hands behind his back, and his eyes
on the ground.

" We have just been to your place," said Sanine.

Soloveitchik blushed and smiled, as he timidly replied :

" Oh ! I beg your pardon ! I am so sorry, but I never
thought that you were coming, or else I would have stayed
at home. I am just out for a little walk," His wistful
eyes shone.

226 S A N I N E

11 Come along with us," said Sanine, kindly, as he took
hold of his arm.

Soloveitchik, apparently delighted, accepted the prof-
fered arm, thrust his cap on the back of his head, and
walked along as if, instead of Sanine's arm, it was some-
thing precious that he was holding. His mouth seemed
to reach from ear to ear.

Purple-faced, and with distended cheeks, the members
of the regimental band flung out their deafening, brazen
notes upon the air, stimulated in their efforts by a smartly-
dressed bandmaster who looked like a pert little sparrow,
and who zealously flourished his bdton. Grouped round
the band-stand were clerks, shopmen, schoolboys in
Hessian boots, and little girls wearing brightly-coloured
handkerchiefs round their heads. In the main walks and
side- walks, as if engaged in an endless quadrille, there moved
a vivacious throng, composed of officers, students, and ladies.

They soon met Dubova, Schafroff, and Yourii Svaro-
gitsch, and exchanged smiles as they passed. Then, after
they had strolled through the entire garden, they again
met, Sina Karsavina being now one of the party, looking
charmingly graceful in her light summer dress.

14 Why are you walking by yourselves, like that ? "
asked Dubova.

" Come ; and join us."

" Let us go down one of the side- walks," suggested
Schafroff. " Here, it's so terribly crowded."

Laughing and chatting, the young people accordingly
turned aside into a more shady, quieter avenue. As they
reached the end of it and were about to turn, Sarudine,
Tanaroff and Volochine suddenly came round the corner.
Sanine saw at once that Sarudine had not expected to
meet him here, and that he was considerably disconcerted.
His handsome face grew dark, and he drew himself up to
his full height. Tanaroff laughed contemptuously.

" That little jackanapes is still here," said Ivanoff, as
he stared at Volochine. The latter had not noticed them,
being so much interested in Sina, who walked first, that
he turned round in passing to look at her.

" So he is ! " said Sanine, laughing.

S A N I N E 227

Sarudine thought that this laughter was meant for
him, and he winced, as if struck by a whip. Flushed with
anger, and impelled as by some irresistible force, he left
his companions, and rapidly approached Sanine.

" What is it ? " said the latter, suddenly becoming
serious, while his eyes were fixed on the little riding-whip
in Sarudine's trembling hand.

" You fool ! " he thought to himself, as much in pity
as in anger.

" I should like a word with you," began Sarudine,
hoarsely. " Did you receive my challenge ? "

" Yes," replied Sanine, intently watching every move-
ment of the officer's hands.

" And you have decided to refuse ... er ... to act
as any decent man is bound to act under the circum-
stances ? " asked Sarudine. His voice was muffled,
though loud in tone. To himself it seemed a strange one,
as uncanny as the cold handle of the whip in his moist
fingers. But he had not the strength to turn aside from
the path that lay before him. Suddenly in the garden
there seemed to be no air whatever. All the others stood
still, perplexed, and expectant.

" Oh ! what the deuce " began Ivanoff, endeavour-
ing to interpose.

" Of course I refuse," said Sanine in a strangely calm
voice, looking the other straight in the eyes.

Sarudine breathed hard, as if he were lifting a heavy
weight.

" Once more I ask you — do you refuse ? " His voice
had a hard, metallic ring.

Soloveitchik turned very pale. " Oh, dear ! Oh !
dear ! He's going to hit him ! " he thought.

" What . . . what is the matter ? " he stammered, as
he endeavoured to protect Sanine.

Scarcely noticing him, Sarudine roughly pushed him
aside. He saw nothing else in front of him but Sanine's
cold, calm e>es. %

" I have already told you so," said Sanine, in the same
tone.

To Sarudine everything seemed whirling round. He

228 S A N I N E

heard behind him hasty footsteps, and the startled cry of
a woman. With a sense of despair such as one who falls
headlong into a chasm might feel, he clumsily and threaten-
ingly flourished the whip.

At that same moment Sanine, using all his strength,
struck him full in the face with his clenched fist.

" Good ! " exclaimed Ivanoff involuntarily.

Sarudine's head hung limply on one side. Something
hot that stabbed his brain and eyes like sharp needles
flooded his mouth and nose.

" Ah ! " he groaned, and sank helplessly forward on
his hands, dropping the whip, while his cap fell off. He
saw nothing, he heard nothing, being only conscious
of the horrible disgrace, and of a dull burning pain in
his eye.

" Oh ! God ! " screamed Sina Karsavina, holding her
head with both hands, and shutting her eyes tightly.

Horrified and disgusted at the sight of Sarudine
crouching there on all fours, Yourii, followed by Schafroff,
rushed at Sanine. Volochine, losing his pince-nez as he
stumbled over a bush, ran away as fast as he could across
the damp grass, so that his spotless trousers instantly
became black up to the knees.

Tanaroff ground his teeth with fury, and also dashed
forward, but Ivanoff caught him by the shoulders and
pulled him back.

" That's all right ! " said Sanine scornfully. " Let him
come." He stood with legs apart, breathing hard, and
big drops of sweat were on his brow.

Sarudine slowly staggered to his feet. Faint, in-
coherent words escaped from his quivering, swollen lips,
vague words of menace that to Sanine sounded singularly
ridiculous. The whole left side of Sarudine's face had
instantly became swollen. His eye was no longer visible ;
blood was flowing from his nose and mouth, his lips
twitched, and his whole body shook as if in the grip of a
fever. Of the smart, handsome officer nothing remained.
That awful blow had robbed him of all that was human ;
it had left only something piteous, terrifying, disfigured.
He made no attempt to go away nor to defend himself.

S A N I N E 229

His teeth rattled, and, while he spat blood, he mechanically
brushed the sand from his knees. Then, reeling forward,
he fell down again.

" Oh ! how horrible ! How horrible ! " exclaimed
Sina Karsavina, hurrying away from the spot.

" Come along ! " said Sanine to Ivanoff, looking up-
wards to avoid so revolting a sight.
" Come along, Soloveitchik."

But Soloveitchik did not stir. Wide-eyed he stared
at Sarudine, at the blood, and the dirty sand on the snow-
white tunic, trembling all the while, as his lips moved
feebly.

Ivanoff angrily pulled him along, but Soloveitchik
shook him off with surprising vehemence, and he then
clung to the trunk of a tree, as if he wished to resist being
dragged away by main force.
" Oh ! why, why, did you do that ? " he whimpered.
44 What a blackguardly thing to do ! " shouted Yourii
in. Sanine's face.

44 Yes, blackguardly ! " rejoined Sanine, with a scornful
smile. " Would it have been better, do you suppose, to
have let him hit me?"

Then, with a careless gesture, he walked rapidly along
the avenue. Ivanoff looked at Yourii in disdain, lit a
cigarette, and slowly followed Sanine. Even his broad
back and smooth hair told one plainly how little such a
scene as this affected him.

44 How stupid and brutal man can be ! " he murmured
to himself.

Sanine glanced round once, and then walked faster.
44 Just like brutes," said Yourii, as he went away. He
looked back, and the garden which he had always thought
beautiful, and dim, and mysterious, seemed now, after
what had happened, to have been shut off from the rest
of the world, a sombre, dreary place.

Schafroff breathed hard, and looked nervously over his
spectacles in all directions, as if he thought that at any
moment, something equally dreadful might again ocqur.

XXXI

In a moment Sarudine's life had undergone a complete
change. Careless, easy, and gay as it had been before,
so now it seemed to him distorted, dire, and unendurable.
The laughing mask had fallen ; the hideous face of a
monster was revealed.

Tanaroff had taken him home in a droschky. On the
way he exaggerated his pain and weakness so as not
to have to open his eyes. In this way he thought that
he would avoid the shame levelled at him by thousands
of eyes so soon as they encountered his.

The slim, blue back of the droschky driver, the passers-
by, malicious, inquisitive faces at windows, even Tanaroff's
arm round his waist were all, as he imagined, silent
expressions of undisguised contempt. So intensely pain-
ful did this sensation become, that at last Sarudine
almost fainted. He felt as if he were losing his reason,
and he longed to die. His brain refused to recognize what
had happened. He kept thinking that there was a
mistake, some misunderstanding, and that his plight was
not as desperate and deplorable as he imagined. Yet
the actual fact remained, and ever darker grew his
despair.

Sarudine felt that he was being supported, that he
was in pain, and that his hands were blood-stained and
dirty. It really surprised him to know that he was still
conscious of it all. At times, when the vehicle turned
a sharp corner, and swayed to one side, he partially
opened his eyes, and perceived, as if through tears,
familiar streets, and houses, and people, and the church.
Nothing had become changed, yet all seemed hostile,
strange, and infinitely remote.

Passers-by stopped and stared. Sarudine instantly
shut his eyes in shame and despair. The drive seemed
endless. " Faster ! faster ! " he thought anxiously.
Then, however, he pictured to himself the faces of his
man-servant, of his landlady, and of the neighbours, which

230

S A N I N E 231

made him wish that the journey might never end. Just
to drive on, drive on, anywhere, like that, with eyes
closed !

Tanaroff was horribly ashamed of this procession.
Very red and confused, he looked straight in front of
him, and strove to give onlookers the impression that
he had nothing whatever to do with the affair.

At first he professed to sympathize with Sarudine,
but soon relapsed into silence, occasionally through his
clenched teeth urging the coachman to drive quicker.
From this, as also from the irresolute support of his arm,
which at times almost pushed him away, Sarudine knew
exactly what Tanaroff felt. It was this knowledge that
a man whom he held to be so absolutely his inferior
should feel ashamed of him, which convinced Sarudine
that all was now at an end.

He could not cross the courtyard without assistance.
Tanaroff and the scared, trembling orderly almost had
to carry him. If there were other onlookers, Sarudine
did not see them. They made up a bed for him on the
sofa and stood there, helpless and irresolute. This
irritated him intensely. At last, recovering himself, the
servant fetched some hot water and a towel, and carefully
washed the blood from Sarudine's face and hands.
His master avoided his glance, but in the soldier's eyes
there was nothing malicious or scornful ; only such fear
and pity as some kind-hearted old nurse might feel.

" Oh ! however did this happen, your Excellency ?
Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! What have they been doing to
him ? " he murmured.

"It's no business of yours ! " hissed Tanaroff angrily ;
glancing round immediately afterwards, in confusion.
He went to the window and mechanically took out a
cigarette, but uncertain if, while Sarudine lay there,
he ought to smoke, he hurriedly thrust his cigarette-case
into his pocket.

" Shall I fetch the doctor ? " asked the orderly,
standing at attention, and unabashed by the rude answer
that he had received. v

Tanaroff stretched out his lingers irresolutely.

232 S A N I N E

M I don't know," he "aid in an altered voice, as he
again looked round.

Sarudine had heard these words, and was horrified
to think that the doctor would see his battered face.

" I don't want anybody," he murmured feebly, trying
to persuade himself and the others that he was going to
die.

Cleansed now from blood and dirt, his face was no
longer horrible to behold, but called rather for com-
passion.

From mere animal curiosity Tanaroff hastily glanced
at him, and then, in a moment, looked elsewhere. Almost
imperceptible as this movement had been, Sarudine
noticed it with unutterable anguish and despair. He
shut his eyes tighter, and exclaimed, in a broken, tearful
voice :

" Leave me ! Leave me ! Oh ! Oh ! "

Tanaroff glanced again at him. Suddenly a feeling of
irritation and contempt possessed him.

" He's actually going to cry now ! " he thought, with
a certain malicious satisfaction.

Sarudine's eyes were closed, and he lay quite still.
Tanaroff drummed lightly on the window-sill with his
fingers, twirled his moustache, looked round first, and
then, out of the window, feeling selfishly eager to get
away.

" I can't very well, just yet," he thought. " What a
damned bore ! Better wait until he goes to sleep."

Another quarter of an hour passed, and Sarudine
appeared to be restless. To Tanaroff such suspense
was intolerable. At last the sufferer lay motionless.

" Aha ! he's asleep," thought Tanaroff, inwardly
pleased. " Yes, I'm sure that he is."

He moved cautiously across the room so that the
jingling of his spurs was scarcely audible. Suddenly
Sarudine opened his eyes. Tanaroff stood still, but
Sarudine had already guessed his intention, and the
former knew that he had been detected in the act. Now
something strange occurred. Sarudine shut his eyes
and pretended to be asleep. Tanaroff tried to persuade

S A N I N E 233

himself that this was the case, while yet perfectly well
aware that each was watching the other ; and so, in an
awkward, stooping posture, he crept out of the room on
tiptoe, feeling like a convicted traitor.

The door closed gently behind him. In such wise
were the bonds of friendship that had bound these two
men together broken once and for all. They both felt
that a gulf now lay between them that could never be
bridged ; in this world henceforth they could be nothing
to each other.

In the outer room Tanaroff breathed more freely.
He had no regret that all was at end between himself and
the man with whom for many years his life had been
spent.

" Look here ! " said he to the servant as if, for
form's sake, it behoved him to speak, " I am now going.
If anything should happen — well . . . you under-
stand . . ."

" Very good, sir," replied the soldier, looking scared.

" So now you know. . . . And see that the bandage
is frequently changed."

He hurried down the steps, and, after closing the
garden-gate, he drew a deep breath when he saw before
him the broad, silent street. It was now nearly dark,
and Tanaroff was glad that no one could notice his
flushed face.

" I may even be mixed up in this horrid affair myself,"
he thought, and his heart sank as he approached the
boulevard. " After all, what have I got to do with it ? "

Thus he sought to pacify himself, endeavouring to
forget how Ivanoff had flung him aside with such force
that he almost fell down.

44 Deuce take it ! What a nasty business ! It's all
that fool of a Sarudine ! Why did he ever associate
with such canaille ? "

The more he brooded over the whole unpleasantness
of this incident, the more his commonplace figure, as he
strutted along in his tightly-fitting breeches, smart boots,
and white tunic, assumed a threatening aspect.

In every passer-by he was ready to detect ridicule

234 S A N I N E

and scorn ; indeed, at the slightest provocation he would
have wildly drawn his sword. However, he met but
few folk that, like furtive shadows, passed swiftly along
the outskirts of the darkening boulevard. On reaching
home he became somewhat calmer, and then he thought
again of what Ivanoff had done.

" Why didn't I hit him ? I ought to have given him
one in the jaw. I might have used my sword. I had
my revolver, too, in my pocket. I ought to have shot
him like a dog. How came I to forget the revolver ?
Well, after all, perhaps it's just as well that I didn't.
Suppose I had killed him ? It would have been a matter
for the police. One of those other fellows might have
had a "revolver, too ! A pretty state of things, eh ?
At all events, nobody knows that I had a weapon on
me, and by degrees, the whole thing will blow over."

Tanaroff looked cautiously round before he drew out
his revolver and placed it in the table drawer.

" I shall have to go to the colonel at once, and explain
to him that I had nothing whatever to do with the
matter," he thought, as he locked the drawer. Then an
irresistible impulse seized him to go to the officer's mess,
and, as an eye-witness, describe exactly what took place.
The officers had already heard about the affair in the
public gardens, and they hurried back to the brilliantly
lighted mess-rooms to give vent in heated language to
their indignation. They were really rather pleased at
Sarudine's discomfiture, since often enough his smartness
and elegance in dress and demeanour had served to put
them in the shade.

Tanaroff was hailed with undisguised curiosity. He
felt that he was the hero of the hour as he began to give
a detailed account of the whole incident. In his narrow
black eyes there was a look of hatred for the friend who
had always been his superior. He thought of the money
incident, and of Sarudine's condescending attitude
towards him, and he revenged himself for past slights
by a minute description of his comrade's defeat.

Meanwhile, forsaken and alone, Sarudine lay there
upon his couch.

S A N I N E 235

His soldier-servant, who had learnt the whole truth
elsewhere, moved noiselessly about, looking sad and
anxious as before. He set the tea-things ready, fetched
some wine, and drove the dog out of the room as it
leaped about for joy at the sight of its master.

After a while the man came back on tiptoe. " Your
Excellency had better have a little wine," he whispered.

" Eh ? What ? " exclaimed Sarudine, opening his
eyes and shutting them again instantly. In a tone
which he thought severe, but which was really piteous,
he could just move his swollen lips sufficiently to say :
" Bring me the looking-glass."

The servant sighed, brought the mirror, and held a
candle close to it.

" Why does he want to look at himself ? " he thought.

W7hen Sarudine looked in the glass he uttered an
involuntary cry. In the dark mirror a terribly disfigured
face confronted him. One side of it was black and blue,
his eye was swollen, and his moustache stuck out like
bristles on his puffy cheek.

" Here ! Take it away ! " murmured Sarudine, and
he sobbed hysterically. " Some water ! "

" Your Excellency mustn't take it so to heart. You'll
soon be all right again," said the kindly soldier, as he
proffered water in a sticky glass which smelt of tea.

Sarudine could not drink ; his teeth rattled help-
lessly against the rim of the glass, and the water was
spilt over his coat.

" Go away ! " he feebly moaned.

His servant, so he thought, was the only man in the
world who sympathized with him, yet that kindlier
feeling towards him was speedily extinguished by the
intolerable consciousness that his serving-man had cause
to pity him.*

Almost in tears, the soldier blinked his eyes and, going
out, sat down on the steps leading to the garden.
Fawning upon him, the dog thrust its pretty nose against
his knee and looked up at him gravely with dark,
questioning eyes. He gently stroked its soft, wavy
coat. Overhead shone the silent stars. A sense of fear

236 S A N I N E

came over him, as the presage of some great, inevitable
mischance.

" Life's a sad thing ! " he thought bitterly, remem-
bering for a moment his own native village.

Sarudine turned hastily over on the sofa and lay
motionless, without noticing that the compress, now
grown warm, had slipped off his face.

" Now all is at an end ! " he murmured hysterically,
" What is at an end ? Everything ! My whole life —
done for ! Why ? Because I've been insulted — struck
like a dog ! My face struck with the fist ! I can never
remain in the regiment, never ! "

He could clearly see himself there, in the avenue,
hobbling on all fours, cowed and ridiculous, as he uttered
feeble, senseless threats. Again and again he mentally
rehearsed that awful incident with ever increasing tor-
ture, and, as if illuminated, all the details stood out
vividly before his eyes. That which most irritated him
was his recollection of Sina Karsavina's white dress, of
which he caught a glimpse at the very moment when
he was vowing futile vengeance.

" Who was it that lifted me up ? " He tried to turn
his thoughts into another channel. " Was it Tanaroff ?
Or that Jew boy who was with them ! It must have
been Tanaroff. Anyhow, it doesn't matter in the least.
What matters is that my whole life is ruined, and that
I shall have to leave the regiment. And the duel
What about that ? He won't fight. I shall have t(
leave the regiment."

Sarudine recollected how a regimental committee hac
forced two brother-officers, married men, to resign because
they had refused to fight a duel.

" I shall be asked to resign in the same way. Quite
civilly, without shaking hands . . . the very fellows
that. . . . Nobody will feel flattered now to be seen
walking arm-in-arm with me in the boulevard, or env^
me, or imitate my manner. But, after all, that's nothing.
It's the shame, the dishonour of it. Why ? Because
I was struck in the face ? It has happened to me before,
when I was a cadet. That big fellow, Schwartz, gave me

S A N I N E 237

a hiding, and knocked out one of my teeth. Nobody
thought anything about it, but we shook hands after-
wards, and became the best of friends. Nobody despised
me then. Why should it be different now ? Surely it
is just the same thing ! On that occasion, too, blood
was spilt, and I fell down. So that ..."

To these despairing questions Sarudine could find no
answer.

" If he had accepted my challenge and had shot me
in the face, that would have been worse, and much more
painful. Yet no one would have despised me in that
case ; on the contrary, I should have had sympathy and
admiration. Thus there is a difference between a bullet
and the fist. What difference is there, and why should
there be any ? "

His thoughts came swiftly, incoherently, yet his
suffering, and irreparable misfortune would seem to have
roused something new and latent within him of which
in his careless years of selfish enjoyment he had never
been conscious.

" Von Deitz, for instance, was always saying, ' If one
smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the left.5 But
how did he come back that day from Sanine's ? Shouting
angrily, and waving his arms because the fellow wouldn't
accept my challenge ! The others are really to blame
for my wanting to hit him with the riding-whip. My
mistake was that I didn't do it in time. The whole
thing's absurdly unjust. However, there it is ; the
disgrace remains ; and I shall have to leave the regiment."

With both hands pressed to his aching brow, Sarudine
tossed from side to side, for the pain in his eye was
excruciating. Then, in a fit of fury, he muttered :

" Get a revolver, rush at him, and put a couple of
bullets through his head . . . and then, as he lies there,
stamp on his face, on his eyes, on his teeth ! . . ."

The compress fell to the floor with a dull thud.
Sarudine, startled, opened his eyes and, in the dimly-
lighted room, saw a basin with water, a towel, and the
dark window, that like an awful eye, stared at him
mysteriously.

9

238 S A N I N E

" No, no, there's no help for it now," he thought, in
dull despair. " They all saw it ; saw how I was struck
in the face, and how I crawled along on all fours. Oh !
the shame of it ! Struck like that, in the face ! No,
it's too much ! I shall never be free or happy again ! "

And again through his mind there flashed a new, keen
thought.

" After all, have I ever been free ? No. That's just
why I've come to grief now, because my life has never
been free ; because I've never lived it in my own way.
Of my own free will should I ever have wanted to fight
a duel, or to hit him with the whip ? » Nobody would
have struck me, and everything would have been all
right. Who first imagined, and when^that an insult
could only be wiped out with blood ? Яо1 I, certainly.
Well, I've wiped it out, or rather, it's been wiped out
with my blood, hasn't it ? I don't know what it all
means, but I know this, that I shall have to leave the
regiment ! "

His thoughts would fain have taken another direction,
yet, like birds with clipped wings, they always fell back
again, back to the one central fact that he had been
grossly insulted, and would be obliged to leave the
regiment.

He remembered having once seen a fly that had fallen
into syrup crawling over the floor, dragging its sticky
legs and wings along with the utmost difficulty. It was
plain that the wretched insect must die, though it still
struggled, and made frantic efforts to regain its feet.
At the time he had turned away from it in disgust, and
now he saw it again, as in a feverish dream. Then he
suddenly thought of a fight that he had once witnessed
between two peasants, when one, with a terrific blow in
the face, felled the other, an elderly, grey-haired man.
He got up, wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve, exclaiming
with emphasis, " What a fool ! "

" Yes, I remember seeing that," thought Sarudine,
" and then they had drinks together at the ' Crown.' "

The night drew near to its end. In silence so strange,
so oppressive, it seemed as if Sarudine were the one

S A N I N E 239

living, suffering soul left on earth. On the table the
guttering candle was still burning with a faint, steady,
flame. Lost in the gloom of his disordered thoughts
Sarudine stared at it with glittering, feverish eyes.

Amid the wild chaos of impressions and recollections
there was one thing which stood out "clearly from all
others. It was the sense of his utter solitude that
stabbed his heart like a dagger. Millions of men at that
moment were merrily enjoying life, laughing and joking ;
some, it might be, were even talking about him. But
he, only he, was alone. Vainly he sought to recall
familiar faces. ^Tet pale, and strange, and cold, they
appeared to him, and their eyes had a look of curiosity
and malevolent glee. Then, in his dejection, he thought
of Lida.

He pictured her as he had seen her last ; her large,
sad eyes ; the thin blouse that lightly veiled her soft
bosom ; her hair in a single loose plait. In her face
Sarudine saw neither malice nor contempt. Those dark
eyes gazed at him in sorrowful reproach. He remem,- -
bered how he had repulsed her at the moment of her
supreme distress. The sense of having lost her wounded
him like a knife.

" She suffered then far more than I do now. . . .
I thrust her from me. ... I almost wanted her to
drown herself ; wanted her to die."

As to a last anchor that should save him, his whole
soul turned to her. He yearned for her caresses, her
sympathy. For an instant it seemed to him as if all his
actual sufferings would efface the past ; yet he knew,
alas ! that Lida would never, never come back to him*
and that all was at an end. Before him lay nothing but
the blank, abysmal void !

Raising his arm, Sarudine pressed his hand against
his brow. He lay there, motionless, with eyes closed
and teeth clenched, striving to see nothing, to hear
nothing, to feel nothing. But after a little while his
hand dropped, and he sat up. His head ached terribly,
his tongue seemed on fire, and he trembled from head to
foot. Then he rose and staggered to the table.

240

SANINE

" I have lost everything ; my life, Lida, everything ! "

It flashed across him that this life of his, after all, had
not been either good, or glad, or sane, but foolish, per-
verted and base. Sarudine, the handsome Sarudine,
entitled to all that was best and most enjoyable in life,
no longer existed. There was only a feeble, emasculated
body left to bear all this pain and dishonour.

" To live on is impossible," he thought, " for that
would mean the entire effacement of the past. I should
have to begin a new life, to become quite a different man,
and that I cannot do ! "

His head fell forward on the table, and in the weird,
flickering candlelight he lay there, motionless.

XXXII

On that same evening Sanine went to see Soloveitchik.
The little Jew was sitting alone on the steps of his house,
gazing at the bare, deserted space in front of it where
several disused pathways crossed the withered grass.
Depressing indeed was the sight of the vacant sheds,
with their huge, rusty locks, and of the black windows of
the mill. The whole scene spoke mournfully of life and
activity that long had ceased.

Sanine instantly noticed the changed expression of
Soloveitchik's face. He no longer smiled, but seemed
anxious and worried. His dark eyes had a questioning
look.

" Ah ! good evening," he said, as in apathetic fashion
he took the other's hand. Then he continued gazing at
the calm evening sky, against which the black roofs of
the sheds stood out in ever sharper relief.

Sanine sat down on the opposite side of the steps,
lighted a cigarette, and silently watched Soloveitchik,
whose strange demeanour interested him.

" What do you do with yourself here ? " he asked,
after a while.

Languidly the other turned to him his large, sad eyes.

" I just live here, that's all. When the mill was at
work, I used to be in the office. But now it's closed, and
everybody's gone away except myself."

" Don't you find it lonely, to be all by yourself, like
this ? "

Soloveitchik was silent.

Then, shrugging his shoulders, he said : " It's all the
same to me."

They remained silent. There was no sound but the
rattling of the dog's chain.

" It's not the place that's lonely," exclaimed Solo-
veitchik with sudden vehemence. " But it's here I feel
it, and here." He touched his forehead and his
breast. m

241 q

242 S A N I N E

" What's the matter with you ? " asked Sanine
calmly.

" Look here," continued Soloveitchik, becoming more
excited, " you struck a man to-day, and smashed his face
in. Perhaps you have ruined his whole life. Pray
don't be offended at my speaking to you like this. I have
thought a great deal about it all, sitting here, as you see,
and wondering, wondering. Now, if I ask you some-
thing, will you answer me ? "

For a moment his features were contorted by his
usual set smile.

" Ask me whatever you like," replied Sanine, kindly.
" You're afraid of offending me, eh ? That won't offend
me, I assure you. What's done is done ; and, if I
thought that I had done wrong, I should be the first to
say so."

" I wanted to ask you this," said Soloveitchik, quivering
with excitement. " Do you realize that perhaps you
might have killed that man ? "

44 There's not much doubt about that," replied Sanine.
" It would have been difficult for a man like Sarudine
to get out of the mess unless he killed me, or I killed him.
But, as regards killing me, he missed the psychological
moment, so to speak ; and at present he's not in a fit
condition to do me harm. Later on he won't have the
pluck. He's played his part."

" And you calmly tell me all this ? "

" What do you mean by ' calmly ? ' " asked Sanine.
" I couldn't look on calmly and see a chicken killed,
much less a man. It was painful to me to hit him. To
be conscious of one's own strength is pleasant, of course,
but it was nevertheless a horrible experience — horrible,
because such an act in itself was brutal. Yet my con-
science is calm. I was but the instrument of fate.
Sarudine has come to grief because the whole bent of
his life was bound to bring about a catastrophe ; and
the marvel is that others of his sort do not share his
fate. These are the men who learn to kill their fellow-
creatures and to pamper their own bodies, not knowing
why or wherefore. They are lunatics, idiots ! Let them

S A N I N E 243

loose, and they would cut their own throats and those
of other folk as well. Am I to blame because I pro-
tected myself from a madman of this type ? "

" Yes, but you have killed him," was Soloveitchik's
obstinate reply.

44 In that case you had better appeal to the good God
who made us meet."

44 You could have stopped him by seizing hold of his
hands."

Sanine raised his head.

" In a moment like that one doesn't reflect. And how
would that have helped matters ? His code of honour
demanded revenge at any price. I could not have held
his hands for ever. It would only have been an additional
insult, nothing more."

Soloveitchik limply waved his hand, and did not reply.

Imperceptibly the darkness closed round them. The
fires of sunset paled, and beneath the deserted sheds
the shadows grew deeper, as if in these lonely places
mysterious, dreadful beings were about to take up their
abode during the night. Their noiseless footsteps may
have made Sultan uneasy, for he suddenly crept out of
his kennel and sat in front of it, rattling his chain.

" Perhaps you're right," observed Soloveitchik sadly,
" but was it absolutely necessary ? Would it not have
been better if you had borne the blow ? "

44 Better ? " said Sanine. " A blow's always a painful
thing. And why ? For what reason ? "

" Oh ! do, please, hear me out," interrupted Solo-
veitchik, with a pleading gesture. " It might have been
better "

" For Sarudine, certainly."

44 No, for you, too ; for you, too."

44 Oh ! Soloveitchik," replied Sanine, with a touch
of annoyance, 44 a truce to that silly old notion about
moral victory ; and a false notion, too. Moral victory
does not consist in offering one's cheek to the smiter,
but in being right before one's own conscience. How
this is achieved is a matter of chance, of circumstances.
There is nothing so horrible as slavery. Yet most

244 S A N I N E

horrible of all is it when a man whose inmost soul rebels
against coercion and force yet submits thereto in the
name of some power that is mightier than he."

Soloveitchik clasped his head with both hands, as one
distraught.

" I've not got the brains to understand it all," he said
plaintively. " And I don't in the least know how
I ought to live."

" Why should you know ? Live as the bird flies.
If it wants to move its right wing, it moves it. If it
wants to fly round a tree, it does so."

" Yes, a bird may do that, but I'm not a bird ; I'm
a man," said Soloveitchik with naive earnestness.

Sanine laughed outright, and for a moment the merry
sound echoed through the gloomy courtyard.

Soloveitchik shook his head. " No," he murmured
sadly, " all that's only talk. You can't tell me how
I ought to live. Nobody can tell me that."

" That's very true. Nobody can tell you that. The
art of living implies a talent ; and he who does not
possess that talent perishes or makes shipwreck of his life."

" How calmly you say that ! As if you knew every-
thing ! Pray don't be offended, but have you always
been like that — always so calm ? " asked Soloveitchik,
keenly interested.

" Oh ! no ; though certainly my temperament has
usually been calm enough, but there were times when
I was harassed by doubts of all kinds. At one time,
indeed, I dreamed that the ideal life for me was the
Christian life."

Sanine paused, and Soloveitchik leaned forward
eagerly as if to hear something of the utmost importance.

" At that time I had a comrade, a student of mathe-
matics, Ivan Lande by name. He was a wonderful man,
of indomitable moral force ; a Christian, not from
conviction, but by nature. In his life all Christianity
was mirrored. If struck, he did not strike back ; he
treated every man as his brother, and in woman he did
not recognize the sexual attraction. Do you remember
Semenoff ? "

S A N I N E 245

Soloveitchik nodded, as with childish pleasure.

" Well, at that time Semenoff was very ill. He was
living in the Crimea, where he gave lessons. There,
solitude and the presentiment of his approaching death
drove him to despair. Lande heard of this, and deter-
mined to go thither and save this lost soul. He had no
money, and no one was willing to lend any to a reputed
madman. So he went on foot, and, after walking over
a thousand versts, died on the way, and thus sacrificed
his life for others."

" And you, oh ! do tell me, "cried Soloveitchik with flash-
ing eyes, " do you recognize the greatness of such a man ? "

" He was much talked about at the time," replied
Sanine thoughtfully. " Some did not look upon him
as a Christian, and for that reason condemned him.
Others said that he was mad and not devoid of self-
conceit, while some denied that he had any moral force ;
and, since he would not fight, they declared that he was
neither prophet nor conqueror. I judge him otherwise.
At that time he influenced me to the point of folly.
One day a student boxed my ears, and I became almost
mad with rage. But Lande stood there, and I just

looked at him and Well, I don't know how it was,

but I got up without speaking, and walked out of the
room. First of all I felt intensely proud of what I had
done, and secondly I hated the student from the bottom
of my heart. Not because he had struck me, but because
to him my conduct must have been supremely gratifying.
By degrees the falseness of my position became clear to
me, and this set me thinking. For a couple of weeks
I was like one demented, and after that I ceased to feel
proud of my false moral victory. At the first ironical
remark on the part of my adversary I thrashed him
until he became unconscious. This brought about an
estrangement between Lande and myself. When I came
to examine his life impartially, I found it astonishingly
poor and miserable."

" Oh ! how can you say that ? " cried Soloveitchik.
" How was it possible for you to estimate the wealth of
his spiritual emotions ? "

246 S A N I N E

" Such emotions were very monotonous. His life's
happiness consisted in the acceptance of every mis-
fortune without a murmur, and its wealth, in the total
renunciation of life's joys and material benefits. He
was a beggar by choice, a fantastic personage whose life
was sacrificed to an idea of which he himself had no clear
conception."

Soloveitchik wrung his hands.

" Oh ! you cannot imagine how it distresses me to
hear this ! " he exclaimed.

" Really, Soloveitchik, you're quite hysterical," said
Sanine, in surprise. " I have not told you anything extra-
ordinary. Possibly the subject is, to you, a painful one ? "

" Oh ! most painful. I am always thinking, thinking,
till my head seems as if it would burst. Was all that
really an error, nothing more ? I grope about, as in a
dark room, and there is no one to tell me what I ought to
do. Why do we live ? Tell me that."

" Why ? That nobody knows."

" And should we not live for the future, so that later
on, at least, mankind may have a golden age ? "

" There will never be a golden age. If the world and
mankind could become better all in a moment, then,
perhaps, a golden age would be possible. But that
cannot be. Progress towards improvement is slow, and
man can only see the step in front of him, and that
immediately behind him. You and I have not lived the
life of a Roman slave, nor that of some savage of the
Stone Age, and therefore we cannot appreciate the boon
of our civilization. Thus, if there should ever be a
golden age, the men of that period will not perceive any
difference between their lives and those of their ancestors.
Man moves along an endless road, and to wish to level
the road to happiness would be like adding new units
to a number that is infinite."

" Then you believe that it all means nothing — that
all is of no avail ? "

" Yes, that is what I think."

11 But what about your friend Lande ? You yourself
were "

S A N I N E 247

" I loved Lande," said Sanine gravely, "not because
he was a Christian, but because he was sincere, and
never swerved from his path, being undaunted by
obstacles either ridiculous or formidable. It was as a
personality that I prized Lande. When he died, his
worth ceased to exist."

" And don't you think that such men have an en-
nobling influence upon life ? Might not such men have
followers or disciples ? "

" Why should life be ennobled ? Tell me that, first
of all. And, secondly, one doesn't want disciples. Men
like Lande are born so. Christ was splendid ; Christians,
however, are but a sorry crew. The idea of his doctrine
was a beautiful one, but they have made of it a lifeless
dogma."

Tired with talking, Sanine said no more. Soloveitchik
remained silent also. There was great stillness around
them, while overhead the stars seemed to maintain a
conversation wordless and unending. Then Soloveitchik
suddenly whispered something that sounded so weird
that Sanine, shuddering, exclaimed ;

" What's that you said ? "

" Tell me," muttered Soloveitchik, " tell me what you
think. Suppose a man can't see his way clear, but is
always thinking and worrying, as everything only
perplexes and terrifies him — tell me, wouldn't it be
better for him to die ? "

" Well," replied Sanine, who clearly read the other's
thoughts, " perhaps death in that lease would be better.
Thinking and worrying are of no avail. He only ought
to live who finds joy in living ; but for him who suffers,
death is best."

" That is what I thought, too," exclaimed Soloveitchik,
and he excitedly grasped Sanine's hand. His face looked
ghastly in the gloom ; his eyes were like two black holes.

" You are a dead man," said Sanine with inward
apprehension, as he rose to go ; " and for a dead man
the best place is the grave. Good-bye."

Soloveitchik apparently did not hear him, but sat
there motionless. Sanine waited for a while and then

248 S A N I N E

slowly walked away. At the gate he stopped to listen,
but could hear nothing. Soloveitchik's figure looked
blurred and indistinct in the darkness. Sanine, as if
in response to a strange presentiment, said to himself :

" After all, it comes to the same thing whether he
lives on like this or dies. If it's not to-day, then it will
be to-morrow," He turned sharply round ; the gate
creaked on its hinges, and he found himself in the street.

On reaching the boulevard he heard, at a distance,
some one running along and sobbing as if in great
distress. Sanine stood still. Out of the gloom a figure
emerged, and rapidly approached him. Again Sanine
felt a sinister presentiment.

" What's the matter ? " he called out.

The figure stopped for a moment, and Sanine was
confronted by a soldier whose dull face showed great
distress.

" What has happened ? " exclaimed Sanine.

The soldier murmured something and ran on, wailing
as he went. As a phantom he vanished in the night.

" That was Sarudine's servant," thought Sanine, and
then it flashed across him ;

" Sarudine has shot himself ! "

For a moment he peered into the darkness, and his
brow grew cold. Between the dread mystery of night
and the soul of this stalwart man a conflict, brief yet
terrible, was in progress.

The town was asleep ; the glimmering roadways lay
bare and white beneath the sombre trees ; the windows
were like dull, watchful eyes glaring at the gloom.
Sanine tossed his head and smiled, as he looked calmly
in front of him.

"I am not guilty," he said aloud. " One more or
less "

Erect and resolute, he strode onward, an imposing
spectre in the silent night.

XXXIII

The news that two persons had committed suicide on
the same night spread rapidly through the little town.
It was Ivanoff who told Yourii. The latter had just
come back from a lesson, and was at work upon a portrait
of Lialia. She posed for him in a light- coloured blouse,
open at the neck, and her pretty shell-pink arms showed
through the semi-transparent stuff. The room was filled
with sunlight which lit up her golden hair, and heightened
the charm of her girlish grace,

" Good day," said Ivanoff, as, entering, he flung his hat
on to a chair.

" Ah ! it's you. Well, what's the news ? " asked
Yourii, smiling.

He was in a contented, happy mood, for at last he had
got some teaching which made him less dependent upon
his father, and the society of his bright, charming sister
served to cheer him, also.

" Oh ! lots of news," said Ivanoff, with a vague look in
his eyes. " One man has hanged himself, and another has
blown his brains out, and the devil's got hold of a third."

" What on earth do you mean ? " exclaimed Yourii.

" The third catastrophe is my own invention, just to
heighten the effect ; but as regards the other two, the
news is correct. Sarudine shot himself last night, and I
have just heard that Soloveitchik has committed suicide
by hanging."

44 Impossible ! " cried Lialia, jumping up. Her eyes
expressed horror and intense curiosity.

Yourii hurriedly laid aside his palette, and approached
Ivanoff.

44 You're not joking ? "

44 No, indeed."

As usual, he put on an air of philosophic indifference,
yet evidently he was much shocked at what had happened.

44 Why did he shoot himself ? Because Sanine struck
him ? "

249

250 S A N I N E

" Does Sanine know ? " asked Lialia anxiously.

" Yes. Sanine heard about it last night," replied
Ivanoff.

" And what does he say ? " exclaimed Yourii.

Ivanoff shrugged his shoulders. He was in no mood
to discuss Sanine with Yourii, and he answered, not
without irritation.

" Nothing. What has it to do with him ? "

" Anyhow, he was the cause of it," said Lialia.

" Yes, but what business had that fool to attack him ?
It is not Sanine's fault. The whole affair is deplorable,
but it is entirely due to Sarudine's stupidity."

" Oh ! I think that the real reason lies deeper,"
said Yourii sadly. " Sarudine lived in a certain set
that . . ."

Ivanoff shrugged his shoulders.

" Yes, and the very fact that he lived in, and was
influenced by, such an idiotic set is only proof positive
that he was a fool."

Yourii rubbed his hands and said nothing. It pained
him to hear the dead man spoken of thus.

" Well I can understand why Sarudine did it," said
Lialia, " but Soloveitchik ? I never would have thought
it possible ! What was the reason ? "

" God knows ! " replied Ivanoff. " He was always a
bit queer."

At that moment Riasantzeff drove up, and meeting
Sina Karsavina on the doorstep, they came upstairs
together. Her voice, high-pitched and anxious, could be
heard, and also his jovial, bantering tones that calk with
pretty girls always evoked.

" Anatole Pavlovitch has just come from there," said
Sina excitedly.

Riasantzeff followed her, laughing as usual, and en-
deavouring to light a cigarette as he entered.

" A nice state of things ! " he said gaily. " If this
goes on we soon shan't have any young people left."

Sina sat down without speaking. Her pretty face
looked sad and dejected.

" Now then, tell us all about it," said Ivanoff.

S A N I N E 251

" As I came out of the club last night," began Riasantzeff,
" a soldier rushed up to me and stammered out, ' His
Excellency's shot himself ! ' I jumped into a droschky and
got there as fast as I could. I found nearly the whole
regiment at the house. Sarudine was lying on the bed,
and his tunic was unbuttoned."

"And where did he shoot himself?" asked Lialia,
clinging to her lover's arm.

44 In the temple. The bullet went right through his
head and hit the ceiling."

44 Was it a Browning ? " Yourii asked this.

44 Yes. It was an awful sight. The wall was splashed
with blood and brains, and his face was utterly disfigured.
Sanine must have given him a teaser." He laughed.
44 A tough customer is that lad ! " t

Ivanoff nodded approvingly.

44 He's strong enough, I warrant you."

44 Coarse brute ! " said Yourii, in disgust.

Sina glanced timidly at him.

44 In my opinion it was not his fault," she said. '4 He
couldn't possibly wait until ..."

44 Yes, yes," replied Riasantzeff, 44 but to hit a fellow
like that ! Sarudine had challenged him."

44 There you go ! " exclaimed Ivanoff irritably, as he
shrugged his shoulders.

44 If you come to think of it, duelling is absurd ! "
said Yourii.

44 Of course it is ! " chimed in Sina.

To his surprise, Yourii noticed that Sina seemed
pleased to take Sanine's part.

44 At any rate, it's . . ." The right phrase failed him
wherewith to disparage Sanine.

44 A brutal thing," suggested Riasantzeff.

Though Yourii thought Riasantzeff was little better
than a brute to himself, he was glad to hear the latter
abuse Sanine to Sina when she defended him. However,
as she noticed Yourii's look of annoyance, she said no
more. Secretly, she was much pleased by Sanine's
strength and pluck, and was quite unwilling to accept
Riasantzeff's denouncement of duelling as just. Like

252 S A N I N E

Yourii, she did not consider that he was qualified to lay-
down the law like that.

" Wonderfully civiUzed, certainly," sneered Ivanoff,
" to shoot a man's nose off, or run him through the body."

" Is a blow in the face any better ? "

" I certainly think that it is. What harm can a fist do ?
A bruise is soon healed. You won't find that a blow
with the fist ever hurt anybody much,"

" That's not the point."

" Then, what is, pray ? " said Ivanoff, his thin lips
curled with scorn.

" I don't believe in fighting at all, myself, but, if it
must be, then one ought to draw the line at severe bodily
injuries. That's quite clear."

" He almost knocked the other's eye out. I suppose
you don't call that severe bodily injury ? " retorted
Riasantzeff sarcastically.

" Well, of course, to lose an eye is a bad job, but it's
not the same as getting a bullet through your body.
The loss of an eye is not a fatal injury,"

" But Sarudine is dead ? "

" Ah ! that's because he wished to die."

Yourii nervously plucked at his moustache.

" I must frankly confess," he said, quite pleased at his
own sincerity, " that personally, I have not made up my
mind as regards this question. I cannot say how I
should have behaved in Sanine's place. Of course,
duelling's stupid, and to fight with fists is not much
better,"

" But what is a man to do if he's compelled to fight ? "
said Sina,

Yourii shrugged his shoulders.

" It's for Soloveitchik that we ought to be sorry,"
said Riasantzeff, after a pause. The words contrasted
strangely with his cheerful countenance. Then all at
once, they remembered that not one of them had asked
about Soloveitchik.

" Where did he hang himself ? Do you know ? "

" In the shed next to the dog's kennel. He let the
dog loose, and then hanged himself."

S A N I N E 253

Sina and Yourii simultaneously seemed to hear a
shrill voice exclaim :

44 Lie down, Sultan ! "

44 Yes, and he left a note behind," continued Riasantzeff,
unable to conceal the merry twinkle in his eyes. 44 1
made a copy of it. In a way, it's really a human docu-
ment." Taking out his pocket-book he read as follows :

44 Why should I live, since I do not know how I ought
to live ? Men such as I cannot make their fellow-
creatures happy."

He stopped suddenly, as if somewhat embarrassed.
Dead silence ensued. A sad spirit seemed to pass noise-
lessly through the room. Tears rose to Sina's eyes, and
Lialia's face grew red with emotion. Yourii smiled
mournfully as he turned towards the window.

44 That's all," said Riasantzeff meditatively.

44 What more would you have ? " asked Sina with
quivering lips.

Ivanoff rose and reached across for the matches that
were on the table.

44 It's nothing more than tomfoolery," he muttered.

44 For shame ! " was Sina's indignant protest.

Yourii glanced in disgust at Ivanoff' s long, smooth
hair and turned away.

44 To take the case of Soloveitchik," resumed Riasantzeff,
and again his eyes twinkled. 44 1 always thought him a
nincompoop — a silly Jew boy. And now, see what
he has shown himself to be ! There is no love more
sublime than the love which bids one sacrifice one's life
for humanity."

44 But he didn't sacrifice his life for humanity," replied
Ivanoff, as he looked askance at Riasantzeff 's portly face
and figure, and observed how tightly his waistcoat fitted
him.

44 Yes, but it's the same thing, for if . . ."

44 It's not the same thing at all," was Ivanoff's stubborn
retort, and his eyes flashed angrily. "It's the act of an
idiot, that's what it is ! "

His strange hatred of Soloveitchik made a most un-
pleasant impression upon the others.

254 S A N I N E

Sina Karsavina, as she got up to go, whispered to
Yourii, " I am going. He is simply detestable."

Yourii nodded. " Utterly brutal," he murmured.

Immediately after Sina's departure, Lialia and
Riasantzeff went out. Ivanoff sat pensively smoking his
cigarette for a while, as he stared sulkily at a corner of
the room. Then he also departed.

In the street as he walked along, swinging his arms in
the usual way, he thought to himself, in his wrath :

" These fools imagine that I am not capable of under-
standing what they understand ! I like that ! I know
exactly what they think and feel, better than they do
themselves. I also know that there is no love more
sublime than the love which bids a man lay down his life
for others. But for a man to go and hang himself simply
because he is of no good to anybody — that's absolute
nonsense ! "

;

XXXIV

When to the sound of martial music Sarudine's remains
were borne to the churchyard, Yourii from his window
watched the sad, imposing procession. He saw the horses
draped in black, and the deceased officer's cap that lay
on the coffin-lid. There were flowers in profusion, and
many female mourners. Yourii was deeply grieved at
the sight.

That evening he walked for a long while with Sina
Karsavina ; yet her beautiful eyes and gentle caress-
ing manner did not enable him to shake off his
depression.

" How awful it is to think," he said, his eyes fixed on
the ground, " to think than Sarudine no longer exists.
A handsome, merry, careless young officer like that ! One
would have thought that he would live for ever, and that
the horrible things of life, such as pain and doubt and
suffering, were unknown to him, would never touch
him. Yet one fine day this very man is swept away
like dust, after passing through a terrible ordeal known
to none but himself. Now he's gone, and will never,
never return. All that's left of him is the cap on the
coffin-lid."

Yourii was silent, and he still gazed at the ground.
Swaying slightly as she walked beside him, Sina listened
attentively, while with her pretty, dimpled hands she
kept twisting the lace of her parasol. She was not
thinking about Sarudine. It was a keen pleasure for
her to be near Yourii, yet unconsciously she shared
his melancholy mood, and her face assumed a mourn-
ful expression. " Yes ! wasn't it sad ? That music,
too ! "

" I don't blame Sanine," said Yourii with emphasis,

" He could not have acted otherwise. The horrible part
of it all is that the paths of these two men crossed, so that
one or the other was obliged to give way. It is also
horrible that the victor does not realize that his triumph

266

256 S A N I N E

is an appalling one. He calmly sweeps a man off the face
of the earth, and yet is in the right."

" Yes, he's in the right, and " exclaimed Sina, who

had not heard all that Yourii had said. Her bosom
heaved with excitement.

" But I call it horrible ! " cried Yourii, hastily in-
terrupting her, as he glanced at her shapely form and
eager face.

" Why is it so ? " asked Sina in a timid voice. She
blushed suddenly, and her eyes lost their brightness.

" Anyone else would have felt remorse, or have suffered
some kind of spiritual anguish," said Yourii. " But he
showed not the slightest sign of it. ' I'm very sorry,' says
he, ' but it's not my fault.' Fault, indeed ! As if the
question were one of fault or of blame ! "

" Then of what is it ? " asked Sina. Her voice faltered,
and she looked downwards, fearing to offend her com-
panion.

" That I don't know ; but a man has no right to behave
like a brute," wTas the indignant rejoinder.

For some time they walked along without speaking.
Sina was grieved at what seemed their momentary
estrangement, at this breaking of their spiritual bond
which to her was so sweet, while Yourii felt that he had
not expressed himself clearly, and this wounded his self-
respect.

Soon afterwards they parted, she being sad and some-
what hurt. Yourii noticed her dejection, and was mor-
bidly pleased thereat, as if he had revenged himself on
some one he loved for a gross personal insult.

At home his ill-humour was increased. During dinner
Lialia repeated what Riasantzeff had told her about
Soloveitchik. As the men were removing the corpse,
several urchins had called out :

V Ikey's hanged himself ! Ikey's hanged himself ! "

Nicolai Yegorovitch laughed loudly, and made her
say:

" Ikey's hanged himself," over and over again.

Yourii shut himself up in his room, and, while correcting
his pupil's exercises, he thought :

S A N I N E 257

" How much of the brute there is in every man ! For
such dull-witted beasts is it worth while to suffer and
to die ? "

Then, ashamed of his intolerance, he said to himself.

" They are not to blame. They don't know what they
are doing. Well, whether they know or not, they're
brutes, and nothing else ! "

His thoughts reverted to Soloveitchik.

" How lonely is each of us in this world ! There was
poor Soloveitchik, great of heart, living in our midst,
ready to make any sacrifice, and to suffer for others.
Yet nobody, any more than I did, noticed him or
appreciated him. In fact, we despised him. That was
because he could not express himself, and his anxiety to
please only had an irritating effect, though, in reality he
was striving to get into closer touch with all of us, and
to be helpful and kind. He was a saint, and we looked
upon him as a fool ! "

So keen was his sense of remorse that he left his
work, and restlessly paced the room. At last he sat down
at the table, and, opening the Bible, read as follows :

" As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away,
so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no
more.

" He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his
place know him any more."

" Нолу true that is ! How terrible and inevitable ! "
he thought.

" Here I sit, alive, thirsting for life and joy, and read
my death-warrant. Yet I cannot even protest against
it!"

As in a frenzy of despair, he clasped his forehead and
with ineffectual fury appealed to some Power invisible
and supreme.

" What has man done to thee that thou shouldst mock
him thus ? If thou dost exist, why dost thou hide thyself
from him ? Why hast thou made me thus, that even
though I would believe in thee I yet have no belief in
my own faith ? And, if thou shouldst answer me, how can
I tell if it is thou or I myself that makes reply ? If I am

R

258 S A N I N E

right in wishing to live, why dost thou rob me of this right
which thou thyself gavest to me ? If thou hast need of
our sufferings, well, these let us bear for love of thee. Yet
we know not even if a tree be not of greater worth than a
man.

" For a tree there is always hope. Even when felled it
can put forth fresh shoots, and regain new verdure and
new life. But man dies, and vanishes for ever. I lie
down never to rise again. If I knew for certain that after
milliards of years I should come to life again, patient and
uncomplaining I would wait through all those centuries
in outer darkness."

Once more he read from the book :

" What profit hath a man of all his labour which he
taketh under the sun ?

44 One generation passeth away and another generation
cometh, but the earth abideth for ever.

" The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down and
hasteth to his place where he arose.

" The wind goeth toward the south and turneth about
unto the north : it whirleth about continually ; and the
wind returneth again according to his circuits.

" The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be ;
there is nothing new under the sun.

" There is no remembrance of former things ; neither
shall there be any remembrance of things that are to
come with those that shall come after.

" I, the Preacher, was King over Israel in Jerusalem."

" I, the Preacher, was King ! " He shouted out these
last words, as in vehement anger and despair, and then
looked round in alarm, fearing lest some one should have
heard him. Then he took a sheet of paper and began to
write.

" I here begin this document which will end with my
decease."

44 Bah ! how absurd it sounds ! " he exclaimed as he
pushed the paper from him with such violence that it
fell to the floor.

44 But that miserable little fellow, Soloveitchik, didn't

S A N I N E 259

think it absurd that he could not understand the meaning
of life ! "

Yourii failed to perceive that he was taking as his
model a man whom he had described as a miserable
little fellow.

" Anyhow, sooner or later, my end will be like that.
There is no other way out. Why is there not ? Be-
cause . . ."

Yourii paused. He believed that he had got an exact
reply to this question, yet the words he wanted could not
be found. His brain was over- wrought, and his thoughts
confused.

" It's rubbish, all rubbish ! " he exclaimed bitterly.

The lamp burned low, and its faint light illumined
Yourii 's bowed head, as he leant across the table.

" Why didn't I die when I was a boy and had in-
flammation of the lungs ? I should now be happy, and
at rest."

He shivered at the thought.

" In that case I should not have seen or known
all that now I know. That would have been just as
dreadful."

Yourii tossed back his head, and rose.

" It's enough to drive one mad ! "

He went to the window and tried to open it, but the
shutters were firmly fastened from the outside. By using
a pencil, Yourii was able at last to unhook them, and with
a creaking sound they swung back, admitting the cool,
pure night air. Yourii looked up at the heavens and saw
the roseate light of the dawn.

The morning was bright and clear. The seven stars
of the Great Bear shone faintly, while large and lustrous
in the crimson east flamed the morning star. A fresh
breeze stirred the leaves, and dispersed the grey mists that
floated above the lawn and veiled the smooth surface of
the stream beside whose margin water-lilies and myosotis
and white clover grew in abundance. The sky was flecked
with little pink clouds, while here and there a last star
trembled in the blue. All was so beautiful, so calm, as

260

SANINE

if the awestruck earth awaited the splendid approach of
dawn.

Yourii at last went back to bed, but the garish daylight
prevented him from getting sleep, as he lay there with
aching brow and jaded eyes.

XXXV

Early that morning, soon after sunrise, Ivanoff and
Sanine walked forth from the town. -The dew sparkled
in the sunlight, and the damp grass seen in shadow ap-
peared grey. Along the side of the road flanked by
gnarled willows, pilgrims were slowly wending their way
to the monastery. The red and white kerchiefs covering
their heads and their bright-hued coats and shirts gave
colour and picturesqueness to the scene. The monastery
bells rang out in the cool morning air, and the sound floated
across the steppe, away to the dreaming woods in the dim
blue distance. A troika came jingling along the high-
road, and the rough voices of the pilgrims as they talked
could be distinctly heard.

44 We've come out a little too early," said Ivanoff.

Sanine looked round about him, contented and happy.

44 Well, let us wait a while," he replied.

They sat down on the sand, close to the hedge, and lit
their cigarettes.

Peasants walking along behind their carts turned to
look at them, and market-women and girls as they rattled
past in rickety traps pointed at the wayfarers amid bursts
of merry, mocking laughter. Ivanoff took not the
slightest notice of them, but Sanine smiled and nodded in
response.

At last there appeared on the steps of a little white
house with a bright green roof the proprietor of the
44 Crown " tavern, a tall man in his shirt-sleeves who
noisily unlocked the door, while yawning incessantly.
A woman wearing a red kerchief on her head slipped in
after him.

44 The very thing ! " cried Ivanoff. 44 Let's go there."

So they went to the little inn and bought vodka and
fresh gherkins from the woman with the red kerchief.

44 Aha ! you seem to be pretty flush of money, my
friend," said Ivanoff, as Sanine produced his purse.

44 I've had an advance," replied the latter, smilthg.

261

262 S A N I N E

44 Much to my mother's annoyance, I have accepted the
secretaryship of an assurance agency. In this way I was
able to get a little cash as well as maternal contempt."

When they regained the high-road, Ivanoff exclaimed :

" Oh ! I feel ever so much better now ! "

4 ' So do I. Suppose we take off our boots ? "

" All right."

Having taken off their boots and socks, they walked
barefoot through the warm, moist sand, which was a
delightful experience after trudging along in heavy boots.

" Jolly, isn't it ? " said Sanine, as he drew a deep
breath.

The sun's rays had now become far hotter. The town
lay well in their rear as the two wayfarers plodded bravely
on towards the blue, nebulous horizon. Swallows sat in
rows on the telegraph-wires. A passenger-train with
its blue, yellow and green carriages rolled past on the
adjacent line, and the faces of drowsy travellers could
be seen at the windows.

Two saucy-looking girls in white hats stood on the
platform at the end of the train and watched the two
bare-footed men with astonishment. Sanine laughed at
them, and executed a wild impromptu dance.

Before them lay a meadow where walking barefoot in
the long lush grass was an agreeable relief.

44 How delightful ! " cried Ivanoff.

" Life's worth living to-day," rejoined his companion.
Ivanoff glanced at Sanine ; he thought those words
must surely remind him of Sarudine and the recent
tragedy. Yet seemingly it was far from Sanine's thoughts,
which surprised Ivanoff somewhat, yet did not displease
him.

After crossing the meadow, they again got on to the
main road which was thronged as before with peasants
in their carts, and giggling girls. Then they came to trees,
and reeds, and glittering water, while above them, at no
great distance on the hill-side, stood the monastery, topped
by a cross that shone like some golden star.

Painted rowing-boats lined the shore, where peasants
in bright-coloured shirts and vests lounged. After much

S A N I N E 263

haggling and good-humoured banter, Sanine hired one of
the little boats. Ivan off was a deft and powerful oarsman,
and the boat shot forward across the water like a living
thing. Sometimes the oars touched reeds or low-hanging
branches which for a long while after such contact
trembled above the deep, dark stream. Sanine steered
with so much erratic energy that the water foamed and
gurgled round the rudder. They reached a narrow back-
water where it was shady and cool. So transparent was
the stream that one could see the bottom covered with
yellow pebbles, where shoals of little pink fish darted
backwards and forwards.

M Here's a good place to land," said Ivanoff, and his
voice sounded cheery beneath the dark branches of the
overhanging trees. As the boat with a grating sound
touched the bank, he sprang lightly ashore. Sanine,
laughing, did likewise.

44 You won't find a better," he cried, plunging knee-
deep through the long grasses.

44 Anywhere's good in the sun, I say," replied Ivanoff,
as from the boat he fetched the vodka, the bread, the
cucumbers, and a little packet of hors d'oeuvres. All
these he placed on a mossy slope in the shade of the trees,
and here he lay down at full length.

" Lucullus dines with Lucullus," he said.

44 Lucky man 1 " replied Sanine.

" Not entirely," added Ivanoff, with a droll expression
of discontent, " for he's forgotten the glasses."

" Never mind ! We can manage, somehow."

Full of the sheer joy of living in this warm sunlight and
green shade, Sanine climbed up a tree and began cutting
off a bough with his knife, while Ivanoff watched him as
the little white chips kept falling on to the turf below.
At last the bough fell, too, when Sanine climbed down,
and began to scoop it out, leaving the bark intact.

In a short time he had made a pretty little drinking-cup.

44 Let's have a dip afterwards, shall we ? " said Ivanoff,
who was watching Sanine's craftsmanship with interest.

44 Not a bad idea," replied Sanine, as he tossed the newly-
made cup into the air and caught it.

264 S A N I N E

Then they sat down on the grass and did ample justice
to their appetising little meal.

" I can't wait any longer. I'm going to bathe."

So saying, Ivanoft hastily stripped, and, as he could
not swim, he plunged into shallow water where the even
sandy bottom was clearly visible.

44 It's lovely ! " he cried, jumping about, and splashing
wildly.

Sanine watched him and then in leisurely fashion he
also undressed, and took a header into the deeper part
of the stream.

" You'll be drowned," cried Ivanoff,

44 No fear ! " was the laughing rejoinder, when Sanine,
gasping, had risen to the surface.

The sound of their merry voices rang out across the
river, and the green pasture-land. After a time they left
the cool water, and lying down, naked in the grass, rolled
over and over in it.

" Jolly, isn't it ? " said Ivanoff, as he turned to
the sun his broad back on which little drops of water
glistened.

11 Here let us build tabernacles ! "

" Deuce take your tabernacles," cried Sanine merrily ;
44 No tabernacles for me ! "

44 Hurrah ! " shouted Ivanoff, as he began dancing a
wild, barbaric dance. Sanine burst out laughing, and
leaped about in the same way. Their nude bodies gleamed
in the sun, every muscle showing beneath the tense skin.

44 Ouf ! " gasped Ivanoff.

Sanine went on dancing by himself, and finished up by
turning a somersault, head foremost.

44 Come along, or I shall drink up all the vodka," cried
his companion.

Having dressed, they ate the remainder of their pro-
visions, while Ivanoff sighed ruefully for a draught of
ice-cold beer.

44 Let's go, shall we ? " he said.

44 Right ! "

They raced at full speed to the river-bank, jumped
into their boat, and pushed off.

S A N I N E 265

" Doesn't the sun sting ! " said Sanine, who was lying
at full length in the bottom of the boat.

" That means rain," replied Ivanoff. " Get up and
steer, for God's sake ! "

" You can manage quite well by yourself," was the
reply.

Ivanoff struck the water with his oars, so that Sanine
got thoroughly splashed.

" Thank you," said the latter, coolly.

As they passed a green spot they heard laughter and
the sound of merry girlish voices. It being a holiday,
townsfolk had come thither to enjoy themselves.

" Girls bathing," said Ivanoff.

" Let's go and look at them," suggested Sanine.

44 They would see us."

44 No they wouldn't. We could land here, and go
through the reeds."

M Leave them alone," said Ivanoff, blushing slightly.

44 Come on."

" No, I don't like to. . , ."

44 Don't like to ? "

" Well, but . . . they're girls . . . young ladies . . .
I don't think it's quite proper."

" You're a silly fool ! " laughed Sanine. " Do you mean
to say that you wouldn't like to see them ? "

" Perhaps I should, but . . ."

" Very well, then, let's go. No mock modesty ! What
man wouldn't do the same, if he had the chance ? "

44 Yes, but if you reason like that, you ought to watch
them openly. Why hide yourself ? "

44 Because it's so much more exciting," said Sanine
gaily.

44 1 daresay, but I advise you not to "

" For chastity's sake, I suppose ? "

44 If you like."

44 But chastity is the very thing that we don't possess ! "

44 If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out ! " said Ivanoff.

44 Oh ! please don't talk nonsense, like Yourii Svaro-
gitsch ! God didn't give us eyes that we might pluck
them out." +

266 S A N I N E

Ivanoff smiled, and shrugged his shoulders.

" Look here, my boy," said Sanine, steering towards
the bank, " if the sight of girls bathing were to rouse in
you no carnal desire, then you would have a right to be
called chaste. Indeed, though I should be the last to
imitate it, such chastity on your part would win my
admiration. But, having these natural desires, if you
attempt to suppress them, then I say that your so-called
chastity is all humbug."

" That's right enough, but, if no check were placed
upon desires, great harm might result."

" What harm, pray ? Sensuality, I grant you, some-
times has evil results, but it's not the fault of sensuality."

" Perhaps not, but ..."

" Very well, then, are you coming ? "

" Yes, but I'm "

" A fool, that's what you are ! Gently ! Don't make
such a noise," said Sanine, as they crept along through
the fragrant grass and rustling reeds.

" Look there ! " whispered Ivanoff, excitedly.

From the smart frocks, hats and petticoats lying on
the grass, it was evident that the party of bathers had
come out from the town. Some were merrily splashing
about in the water which dripped in silver beads from their
round, soft limbs. One stood on the bank, erect and lithe,
and the sunlight enhanced the plastic beauty of her form
that quivered as she laughed.

" Oh ! I say I " exclaimed Sanine, fascinated by the
sight.

Ivanoff started backwards as in alarm.

" What's the matter ? "

" Hush ! It's Sina Karsavina ! "

" So it is ! " said Sanine aloud. " I didn't recognize
her. How charming she looks ! "

" Yes, doesn't she ? " said the other, chuckling.

At that moment laughter and loud cries told them that
they had been overheard. Karsavina, startled, leaped into
the clear water from which alone her rosy face and shining
eyes emerged. Sanine and Ivanoff fled precipitately,
stumbling back through the tall rushes to their boat.

S A N I N E 267

" Oh ! how good it is to be alive ! " said Sanine, stretch-
ing himself.

Down the river, floating onward,
Ever onward, to the sea.

So he sang in his clear, resonant voice, while behind
the trees the sound of girlish laughter could still be heard.
Ivanoff looked at the sky.

" It's going to rain," he said.

The trees had become darker, and a deep shadow passed
swiftly across the meadow.

" We shall have to run for it ! "

" Where ? There's no escape, now," cried Sanine
cheerfully.

Overhead a leaden-hued cloud floated nearer and nearer.
There was no wind ; the stillness and gloom had increased.

" We shall get soaked to the skin," said Ivanoff, " so do
give me a cigarette, to console me."

Faintly the little yellow flame of the match flickered
in the gloom. A sudden gust of wind swept it away.
One big drop of rain splashed the boat, and another fell
on to Sanine's brow. Then came the downpour. Patter-
ing on the leaves, the rain hissed as it touched the surface
of the water. All in a moment from the dark heaven it
fell in torrents, and only the rush and the splash of it
could be heard.

" Nice, isn't it ? " said Sanine, moving his shoulders to
which his wet shirt was sticking.

" Not so bad," replied Ivanoff, who had crouched at
the bottom of the boat.

Very soon the rain ceased, though the clouds had not
dispersed, but were massed behind the woods where
flashes of lighting could be seen at intervals.

" We ought to be getting back," said Ivanoff.
' " All right. I'm ready."

They rowed out into the current. Black, heavy clouds
hung overhead, and the flashes of lightning became in-
cessant ; white scimitars that smote the sullen sky. Though
now it did not rain, a feeling of thunder was in the air.
Birds with wet and ruffled plumage skimmed the surface

268 S A N I N E

of the river, while the trees loomed darkly against the
blue-grey heavens.

" Ho ! ho ! " cried Ivanoff.

When they had landed and were plodding through the
wet sand, the gloom became more intense.

" We're in for it, now."

Nearer, ever nearer to earth the huge cloud ap-
proached, like some dreadful grey-bellied monster. There
was a sudden gust of wind, and leaves and dust were
whirled round and round. Then, a deafening crash, as
if the heavens were cleft asunder, when the lightning
blazed and the thunder broke.

" Oho — ho — ho ! " shouted Sanine, trying to outvie the
clamour of the storm. But his voice, even to himself,
was inaudible.

When they reached the fields, it was quite dark. Their
pathway was lit by vivid flashes, and the thunder never
ceased.

" Oh ! Ha ! Ho ! " shouted Sanine.

" What's that ? " cried Ivanoff.

At that moment a vivid flash revealed to him Sanine's
radiant face, the only answer to his question. Then, a
second flash showed Sanine, with arms outstretched, glee-
fully apostrophizing the tempest.

XXXVI

The sun shone as brightly as in spring, yet in the calm,
clear air the touch of autumn could be felt. Here and there
the trees showed brown and yellow leaves in which the
wistful voice of a bird occasionally broke the silence,
while large insects buzzed lazily above their ruined
kingdom of faded grasses and withered flowers where
luxuriant weeds now waxed apace.

Yourii sauntered through the garden. Lost in his
thoughts, he gazed at the sky, at the green and yellow
leaves, and the shining water, as if he were looking on
them all for the last time, and must fix them in his memory
so as never to forget them. He felt vague sorrow at his
heart, for it seemed as though with every moment some-
thing precious was passing away from him that could
never be recalled ; his youth that had brought him no
joy ; his place as an active sharer in the great and useful
work upon which all his energies had once been concen-
trated. Yet why he should have thus lost ground he
could not tell. He was firmly convinced that he possessed
latent powers that should revolutionize the world, and a
mind far broader in its outlook than that of anyone else ;
but he could not explain why he had this conviction,
and he would have been ashamed to admit the fact even
to his most intimate friend.

" Ah ! well," he thought, gazing at the red and yellow
reflections of the foliage in the stream, " perhaps what I
do is the wisest and the best. Death ends it all, however
one may have lived or tried to live. Oh ! there comes
Lialia," he murmured, as he saw his sister approaching.
" Happy Lialia ! She lives like a butterfly, from day to
day, wanting nothing, and troubled by nothing. Oh !
if I could live as she does."

Yet this was only just a passing thought, for in reality
he would on no account have wished to exchange his
own spiritual tortures for the feather-brain existence of
a Lialia.

270 S A N I N E

" Yourii ! Yourii ! " she exclaimed in a shrill voice,
though she was not more than three paces distant from
him. Laughing roguishly, she handed him a little rose-
coloured missive.

Yourii suspected something.

" From whom ? " he asked, sharply.

" From Sinotschka Karsavina," said Lialia, shaking
her finger at him, significantly.

Yourii blushed deeply. To receive through his sister
a little pink, scented letter like this seemed utterly silly ;
in fact ridiculous. It positively annoyed him. Lialia,
as she walked beside him, prattled in sentimental fashion
about his attachment to Sina, just as sisters will, who
are intensely interested in their brothers' love-affairs.
She said how fond she was of Sina, and how delighted she
would be if they made a match of it, and got married.

At the luckless word " married," Yourii's face grew
redder still, and in his eyes there was a malevolent look.
He saw before him an entire romance of the usual pro-
vincial type ; rose-pink billets-doux, sisters as confidantes,
orthodox matrimony, with its inevitable commonplace
sequel, home, wife, and babies — the one thing on earth
that he dreaded most.

" Oh ! Enough of all that twaddle, please ! " he said in
so sharp a tone that Lialia was amazed.

" Don't make such a fuss ! " she exclaimed, pettishly.
" If you are in love, what does it matter ? I can't think
why you always pose as such an extraordinary hero."

This last sentence had a touch of feminine spite in it,
and the shaft struck home. Then, with a graceful move-
ment of her dress which disclosed her dainty open-work
stockings, she turned abruptly on her heel like some
petulant princess, and went indoors.

Yourii watched her, with anger in his dark eyes, as he
tore open the envelope.

" Yourii Nicolaijevitch :

" If you have time, and the wish to do so, will you come
to the monastery to-day ? I shall be there with my
aunt. She is preparing for the Communion, and will be

S A N I N E 271

in church the whole time. It will be dreadfully dull for
me, and I want to talk to you about lots of things. Do
come. Perhaps I ought not to have written to you,
but, anyhow, I shall expect you."

In a moment all that had occupied his thoughts vanished,
as with a thrill of pleasure almost physical he read and re-
read the letter. This pure, charming girl in one short
phrase had thus in naive, trusting fashion revealed to him
the secret of her love. It was as though she had come to
him, helpless and pained, unable to resist the love that
made her give herself up to him, yet not knowing what
might befall. So near to him now seemed the goal, that
Yourii trembled at the thought of possession. He strove
to smile ironically, but the effort failed. His whole being
was filled with joy, and such was his exhilaration that,
like a bird, he felt ready to soar above the tree-tops,
away, afar, into the blue, sunlit air.

Towards evening he hired a droschky and drove towards
the monastery, smiling on the world timidly, almost in
confusion. On reaching the landing-stage he took a boat,
and was rowed by a stalwart peasant to the hill.

It was not until the boat got clear of the reeds into the
broad, open stream that he became conscious that his
happiness was entirely due to the little rose-coloured
letter.

" After all, it's simple enough," he said to himself, by
way of explanation. " She has always lived in that sort
of world. It's just a provincial romance. Well, what
if it is ? "

The water rippled gently on each side of the boat
that brought him nearer and nearer to the green hill.
On reaching the shore, Yourii in his excitement gave the
boatman half a rouble and began to climb the slopes.
Signs of approaching dusk were already perceptible.
Long shadows lay at the foot of the hill, and heavy
mists rose from the earth, hiding the yellow tint of the
foliage, so that the forest looked as green and dense as in
summer. The court-yard of the monastery was silent and
solemn as the interior of a church. The grave, fall

272 S A N I N E

poplars looked as if they were praying, and like shadows
the dark forms of monks moved hither and thither.
At the church-porch lamps glimmered, and in the air there
was a faint odour either of incense or of faded poplar-
leaves.

" Hullo, Svarogitsch ! " shouted some one behind him.

Yourii turned round, and saw Schafroff, Sanine, Ivanoff
and Peter Hitch, who came across the court-yard, talking
loudly and merrily. The monks glanced apprehensively
in their direction and even the poplars seemed to lose
something of their devotional calm.

44 We've all come here, too," said Schafroff, approaching
Yourii whom he revered.

44 So I see," muttered Yourii irritably.

44 You'll join our party, won't you ? " asked Schafroff
as he came nearer.

44 No, thank you, I am engaged," said Yourii, with some
impatience.

44 Oh ! that's all right ! You'll come along with us,
I know," exclaimed Ivanoff, as he good-humouredly
caught hold of his arm. Yourii endeavoured to free
himself, and for a while a droll struggle took place.

44 No, no, damn it all, I can't ! " cried Yourii, almost
angry now. 44 Perhaps I'll join you later." Such rough
pleasantry on Ivanoff's part was not at all to his liking.

44 All right," said Ivanoff, as he released him, not
noticing his irritation. 44 We will wait for you, so mind
you come."

44 Very well."

Thus, laughing and gesticulating, they departed.
The court-yard became silent and solemn as before.
Yourii took off his cap, and in a mood half-mocking,
half shy, he entered the church. He at once perceived
Sina, close to one of the dark pillars. In her grey jacket
and round straw-hat she looked like a school-girl. His
heart beat faster. She seemed so sweet, so charming,
with her black hair in a neat coil at the back of her
pretty white neck. It was this air de pensionnaire while
being a tall, well-grown, shapely young woman, that to him
was so intensely alluring. Conscious of his gaze, she

S A N I N E 273

looked round, and in her dark eyes there was an expression
of shy pleasure.

" How do you do ? " said Yourii, speaking in a low voice
that yet was not low enough. He was not sure if he
ought to shake hands in a church. Several members of
the congregation looked round, and their swart, parch-
ment-like faces made him feel more uncomfortable. He
actually blushed, but Sina, seeing his confusion, smiled at
him, as a mother might, with love in her eyes, and Yourii
stood there, blissful and obedient,

Sina gave no further glances, but kept crossing herself
with great zeal. Yet Yourii knew that she was only
thinking of him, and it was this consciousness that estab-
lished a secret bond between them. The blood throbbed
in his veins, and all seemed full of mystery and wonder.
The dark interior of the church, the chanting, the dim
lights, the sighs of worshippers, the echoing of feet of those
who entered or went out — of all this Yourii took careful
note, as in such solemn silence he could plainly hear the
beating of his heart. He stood there, motionless, his
eyes fixed on Sina's white neck and graceful figure,
feeling a joy that bordered on emotion. He wanted
to show every one that, although faith he had none in
prayers, or chants, or lights, he yet was not opposed to
them. This led him to contrast his present happy frame
of mind with the distressful thoughts of the morning.

" So that one really can be happy, eh ? " he asked
himself, answering the question at once. " Of course
one can. All my thoughts regarding death and the
aimlessness of life are correct and logical, yet in spite of it
all, a man can sometimes be happy. If I am happy, it is
all due to this beautiful creature that only a short time
ago I had never seen."

Suddenly the droll thought came to him that, long ago,
as little children, perhaps they had met and parted, never
dreaming that some day they would fall violently in love
with each other, and that she would give herself to him
in all her ripe, radiant nudity. It was this last thought
that brought a flush to his cheeks and for a while he .felt
afraid to look at her. Meanwhile she who his wanton

274 S A N I N E

fancy had thus unclothed stood there in front of him,
pure and sweet, in her little grey jacket and round hat,
praying silently that his love for her might be as tender
and deep as her own. In some way her virginal modesty
must have influenced Yourii, for the lustful thoughts
vanished, and tears of emotion filled his eyes. Looking
upwards, he saw the gleaming gold above the altar, and
the sacred cross round which the yellow tapers shone,
and with a fervour long since forgotten he mentally
ejaculated :

" О God, if thou dost exist, let this maiden love me,
and let my love for her be always as great as at this
moment."

He felt slightly ashamed at his own emotion, and
sought to dismiss it with a smile.

" It's all nonsense, after all," he thought.

" Come," said Sina in a whisper that sounded like a
sigh.

Solemnly, as if in their souls they bore away with them
all the chanting, and the prayers, the sighs and mystic
lights, they went out across the court-yard, side by side,
and passed through the little door leading to the mountain-
slope. Here there was no living soul. The high white
wall and time-worn turrets seemed to shut them out
from the world of men. At their feet lay the oak forest ;
far below shone the river like a mirror of silver, while in
the distance fields and meadows were merged in the dim
horizon-line.

In silence they advanced to the edge of the slope,
aware that they ought to do something, to say something,
yet feeling all the while that they had not sufficient
courage. Then Sina raised her head, when, unexpectedly
yet quite simply and naturally, her lips met Yourii's.
She trembled and grew pale as he gently embraced her, and
for the first time felt her warm, supple body in his arms.
A bell chimed in that silence. To Yourii it seemed to
celebrate the moment in which each had found the other.
Sina, laughing, broke away from him, and ran back.

" Auntie will wonder what has become of me ! Wait
here, and I'll be back soon."

S A N I N E 275

Afterwards Yourii could never remember if she had
said this to him in a loud, clear voice that echoed through
the woodland, or if the words had floated to him like a
soft whisper on the evening breeze. He sat down on the
grass and smoothed his hair with his hand.

" How silly, and j^et how delightful it all is ! " he
thought, smiling. In the distance he heard Sina's voice»

" I'm coming, auntie, I'm coming."

XXXVII

First the horizon grew dark ; then the river vanished
in a mist, and from the pasture-lands a sound came up
of neighing horses, while, here and there, faint lights
flickered. As he sat there waiting, Yourii began to
count these.

" One, two, three — oh ! there's another, right on the
edge of the horizon, just like a tiny star. Peasants are
seated round it, keeping their night-watch, cooking
potatoes and chatting. The fire yonder is blazing up and
crackling merrily, while the horses stand, snorting,
beside it. But at this distance it's only a little spark
that at any moment might vanish."

He found it hard to think about anything at all. This
sense of supreme happiness utterly absorbed him. As if
in alarm, he murmured at intervals :

" She will come back again, directly."

Thus he waited there, on the height, listening to horses
whinnying in the distance, to the cries of wild duck beyond
the river, and to a thousand other elusive, indefinite sounds
from the woods at evening which floated mysteriously
through the air. Then as behind him he heard steps
rapidly approaching, and the rustling of a dress, he knew,
without looking round, that it was she, and in an ecstasy
of passionate desire he trembled at the thought of the
coming crisis. Sina stood still beside him, breathing
hard. Delighted at his own audacity, Yourii caught her
in his strong arms, and carried her down to the grassy
slope beneath. In doing this, he nearly slipped, when
she murmured :

" We shall fall ! " feeling bashful, and yet full of joy.

As Yourii pressed her limbs closer to his, it appeared
to him that she had at once the sumptuous proportions
of a woman and the soft, slight figure of a child.

Down below, under the trees, it was dark, and here Yourii
placed the girl, seating himself next to her. As the
ground was sloping, they seemed to be lying side by side.

^76

S A N I N E 277

In the dim light Yourii's lips fastened on hers with wild
passionate longing. She did not struggle, but only
trembled violently.

" Do you love me ? " she murmured, breathlessly.
Her voice sounded like some mysterious whisper from
the woods.

Then in amazement, Yourii asked himself :

" What am I doing ? "

The thought was like ice to his burning brain. In a
moment everything seemed grey and void as a day in
winter, lacking force and life. Her eyelids half-closed,
she turned to him with a questioning look. Then,
suddenly she saw his face, and overwhelmed with
shame, shrank from his embrace. Yourii was beset by
countless conflicting sensations. He felt that to stop
now would be ridiculous. In a feeble, awkward way he
again commenced to caress her, while she as feebly,
and awkwardly resisted him. To Yourii the situation
now seemed so absolutely absurd, that he released Sina,
who was panting like some hunted wild animal.

There was a painful silence, suddenly, he said :

" Forgive me ... I must be mad."

Her breath came quicker, and he felt that he should
not have spoken thus, as it must have hurt her. In-
voluntarily he stammered out all sorts of excuses which
he knew were false, his one wish being to get away from
her, as the situation had become intolerable.

She must have perceived this, too, for she murmured :

" I ought ... to go."

They got up, without looking at each other, and Yourii
made a final effort to revive his previous ardour by
embracing her feebly. Then, in her a motherly feeling
was roused. As if she felt that she was stronger than he,
she nestled closer to him, and looking into his eyes,
smiled tenderly, consolingly.

" Good-bye ! Come and see me to-morrow ! " So
saying she kissed him with such passion that Yourii
felt dazed. At that moment he almost revered her.

When she had gone, he listened for a long while to the
sound of her retreating footsteps, and then picKed up

278 S A N I N E

his cap from which he shook dead leaves and mould
before thrusting it on his head, and going down the hill to
the hospice. He made a long detour so as to avoid
meeting Sina.

" Ah ! " thought he, as he descended the slope, " must
I needs bring so pure and innocent a girl to shame ?
Had it all to end in my doing what any other average
man would have done ? God bless her ! It would
have been too vile. ... I am glad that I wasn't as bad
as all that. How utterly revolting ... all in a moment . . .
without a word . . . like some animal ! " Thus he
thought with disgust of what a little while before had
made him glad and strong. Yet he felt secretly ashamed
and dissatisfied. Even his arms and legs seemed to
dangle in senseless fashion, and his cap to fit him as
might a fool's.

" After all, am I really capable of living ? " he asked
himself, in despair.

XXXVIII

In the large corridor of the hospice there was an odour
of samovars, and bread, and incense. A strong, active
monk was hurrying along, carrying a huge tea-urn.

" Father," exclaimed Yourii, confused somewhat at
addressing him thus, and imagining that the monk
would be equally embarrassed.

" What is it, pray ? " asked the other politely, through
clouds of steam from the samovar.

" Is there not a party of visitors here, from the town ? "

44 Yes, in number seven," replied the monk promptly,
as if he had anticipated such a question. " This way,
please, on the balcony."

Yourii opened the door. The spacious room was
darkened by dense clouds of tobacco-smoke. Near the
balcony there was more light, and one could hear the
jingling of bottles and glasses above the noisy talk and
laughter.

" Life is an incurable malady." It was Schafroff who
spoke.

44 And you are an incurable fool ! " shouted Ivanoff,
in reply, 44 Can't you stop your eternal phrase-making ? "

On entering, Yourii received a boisterous welcome.
Schafroff jumped up, nearly dragging the cloth off the
table as he seized Yourii's hand, and murmured effusively :

44 How awfully good of you to come ! I am so glad !
Reallv, it's most kind of you ! Thank you ever so
much!"

Yourii as he took a seat between Sanine and Peter
Ilitsch, proceeded to look about him. The balcony was
brightly lighted by two lamps and a lantern, and outside
this circle of light there seemed to be a black, impenetrable
wall. Yet Yourii could still perceive the greenish lights
in the sky, the silhouette of the mountain, the tops of the
nearest trees, and, far below, the glimmering surface
of the river. From the wood moths and chafers flew to the
lamp, and, fluttering round it, fell on to the table, slowly

279

280

SANINE

dying there a fiery death. Yourii, as he pitied their
fate, thought to himself :

" We, too, like insects, rush to the flame, and flutter
round every luminous idea only to perish miserably
at the last. We imagine that the idea is the expression
of the world's will, whereas it is nothing but the consuming
fire within our brain."

" Now then, drink up ! " said Sanine, as in friendly
fashion he passed the bottle to Yourii.

" With pleasure," replied the latter, dejectedly, and it
immediately occurred to him that this was about the
best thing, in fact the only thing that remained to be
done.

So they all drank and touched glasses. To Yourii
vodka tasted horrible. It was burning and bitter as
poison. He helped himself to the hors oVceuvres, but
these, too, had a disagreeable flavour, and he could not
swallow them.

" No ! " he thought. " It doesn't matter if it's death,
or Siberia, but get away from here I must ! Yet, where
shall I go ? Everywhere it's the same thing, and there's
no escaping from one's self. When once a man sets
himself above life, then life in any form can never
satisfy him, whether he lives in a hole like this, or in St.
Petersburg."

" As I take it," cried Schafroff, " man, individually, is
a mere nothing."

Yourii looked at the speaker's dull, unintelligent
countenance, with its tired little eyes behind their glasses,
and thought that such a man as that was in truth nothing.

" The individual is a cypher. It is only they who
emerge from the masses, yet are never out of touch with
them, and who do not oppose the crowd, as bourgeois
heroes usually do — it is only they who have real strength."

" And in what does such strength consist, pray ? "
asked Ivanoff aggressively, as he leant across the table.
" Is it in fighting against the actual government ? Very
likely. But in their struggle for personal happiness,
how can the masses help them ? "

" Ah ! there you go ! You're a super-man, and want

SANINE 281

happiness of a special kind to suit yourself. But, we men
of the masses, we think that in fighting for the welfare of
others our own happiness lies. The triumph of the idea—
that is happiness ! "

" Yet, suppose the idea is a false one ? "

44 That doesn't matter. Belief's the thing ! " Schafroff
tossed his head stubbornly.

44 Bah ! " said Ivanoff in a contemptuous tone, " every
man believes that his own occupation is the most im-
portant and most indispensable thing in the whole world.
Even a ladies' tailor thinks so. You know that perfectly
well, but apparently you have forgotten it ; therefore,
as a friend I am bound to remind you of the fact."

With involuntary hatred Yourii regarded Ivanoff's
flabby, perspiring face, and grey, lustreless eyes.

44 And, in your opinion, what constitutes happiness,
pray ? " he asked, as his lips curled in contempt.

44 Well, most assuredly not in perpetual sighing and
groaning, or incessant questionings such as, 4 1 sneezed
just now. Was that the right thing to do ? Will it not
cause harm to some one ? Have I, in sneezing, fulfilled
my destiny ? ' "

Yourii could read hatred in the speaker's cold eyes,
and it infuriated him to think that Ivanoff considered
himself his superior intellectually, and was laughing
at him.

44 We'll soon see," he thought.

44 That's not a programme," he retorted, striving to
let his face express intense disdain, as well as reluctance
to pursue the discussion.

44 Do you really need one ? If I desire, and am able,
to do something, I do it. That's my programme ! "

44 A fine one indeed ! " exclaimed Schafroff hotly,
Yourii merely shrugged his shoulders and made no reply.

For a while they all went on drinking in silence. Then
Yourii turned to Sanine and proceeded to expound his
views concerning the Supreme Good. He intended
Ivanoff to hear what he said, though he did not look at
him. Schafroff listened with reverence and enthusiasm,
while Ivanoff who had partly turned his back to Yourii

282 S A N I N E

received each new statement with a mocking " We've
heard all that before ! "

At last Sanine languidly interposed.

" Oh ! do stop all this," he said. " Don't you find it
terribly boring ? Every man is entitled to his own
opinion, surely ? "

He slowly lit a cigarette and went out into the court-
yard. To his heated body the calm, blue night was
deliriously soothing. Behind the wood the moon rose
upward, like a globe of gold, shedding soft, strange light
over the dark world. At the back of the orchard with
its odour of apples and plums the other white-walled
hospice could be dimly seen, and one of the lighted
windows seemed to peer down at Sanine through its fence
of tender leaves. Suddenly a sound was heard of naked
feet pattering on the grass, and Sanine saw the figure
of a boy emerge from the gloom.

" What do you want ? " he asked.

" I want to see Mademoiselle Karsavina, the school-
teacher," replied the bare-footed urchin, in a shrill voice.

" Why ? "

To Sanine the name instantly recalled a vision of Sina,
standing at the water's edge in all her nude, sunlit loveli-
ness.

" I have got a letter for her," said the boy.

" Aha ! She must be at the hospice over the way,
as she is not here. You had better go there."

The lad crept away, barefoot, like some little animal,
disappearing so quickly in the darkness that it seemed
as if he had hidden himself behind a bush.

Sanine slowly followed, breathing to the full the soft,
honey-sweet air of the garden.

He went close up to the other hospice, so that the light
from the window as he stood under it fell full upon his
calm, pensive face, and illuminated large, heavy pears
hanging on the dark orchard trees. By standing on
tip-toe Sanine was able to pluck one, and, just as he did so
he caught sight of Sina at the window.

He saw her in profile, clad in her night-dress. The
light on her soft, round shoulders gave them a lustre

S A N I N E 283

as of satin. She was lost in her thoughts, that seemingly
made her joyous yet ashamed, for her eyelids quivered,
and on her lips there was a smile. To Sanine it was like
the ecstatic smile of a maiden ripe and ready for a long,
entrancing kiss. Riveted to the spot, he stood there
and gazed.

She was musing on all that had just happened, and her
experiences, if they had caused delight, had yet provoked
shame. " Good heavens ! " thought she, " am I really
so depraved ? " Then for the hundredth time she bliss-
fully recalled the rapture that was hers as she first lay
in Yourii's arms. " My darling ! My darling I " she
murmured, and again Sanine watched her eyelids tremble,
and her smiling lips. Of the subsequent scene, distressful
in its unbridled passion, she preferred not to think,
instinctively aware that the memory of it would only
bring disenchantment.

There was a knock at the door.

" Who is there ? " asked Sina, looking up. Sanine
plainly saw her white, soft neck.

" Here's a letter for you," cried the boy outside.

Sina rose and opened the door. Splashed with wet
mud to the knees, the boy entered, and snatching his cap
from his head, said :

" The young lady sent me."

" Sinotschka," wrote Dubova, " if possible, do come
back to town this evening, tfhe Inspector of Schools has
arrived, and will visit our school to-morrow morning.
It won't look well if you are not there."

" What is it ? " asked Sina's old aunt.

" Olga has sent for me. The school-inspector has
come," replied Sina, pensively.

The boy rubbed one foot against another.

" She wished me to tell you to come back withou
fail," he said.

" Are you going ? " asked the aunt.

" How can I ? Alone, in the dark ? "
fe " The moon is up," said the boy. " It's quite light
out-of-doors."

" I shall have to go," said Sina, still hesitating.

284 S A N I N E

44 Yes, yes, go, my child. Otherwise there might be
trouble."

" Very well, then, I'll go," said Sina, nodding her head
resolutely.

She dressed quickly, put on her hat and took leave of
her aunt.

" Good-bye, auntie."

" Good-bye, my dear. God be with you."

Sina turned to the boy. " Are you coming with me?"
The urchin looked shy and confused, as, again rubbing
his feet together, he muttered, " I came to be with mother.
She does washing here, for the monks."

" But how am I to go alone, Grischka ? "

" All right ! Let's go," replied the lad, in a tone of
vigorous assent.

They went out into the dark-blue, fragrant night.

" What a delightful scent 1 " she exclaimed, immediately
uttering a startled cry, for in the darkness she had stumbled
against some one.

4 ■ It is I," said Sanine, laughing.

Sina held out her trembling hand.

44 It's so dark that one can't see," she said, by way of
excuse.

44 Where are you going ? "

44 Back to the town. They've sent for me."

44 What, alone ? "

44 No, the little boy's going with me. He's my cavalier."

44 Cavalier ! Ha ! Ha ! " repeated Grischka merrily,
stamping his bare feet.

44 And what are you doing here ? " she asked.

44 Oh ! we're just having a drink together."

44 You said 4 we ' ? "

44 Yes — Schafroff, Svarogitsch, Ivanoff ..."

44 Oh ! Yourii Nicolaijevitsch is with you, is he ? "
asked Sina, and she blushed. To utter the name of him
she loved sent a thrill through her as though she were
looking down into some precipice.

44 Why do you ask ? "

44 Because — er — I met him," she answered, blushing
deeper.

S A N I N E 285

" Well, good-bye ! "

Sanine gently held her proffered hand in his.

44 If you like, I will row you across to the other side.
Why should you go all that way round ? "

44 Oh ! no, please don't trouble," said Sina, feeling
strangely shy.

44 Yes, let him row you across," said little Grischka
persuasively, " for there's such a lot of mud on the bank."

" Very well, then. You can go back to your mother."

" Aren't you afraid to cross the fields alone ? " asked
the boy.

44 1 will accompany you as far as the town," said Sanine.

44 But what will your friends say ? "

44 Oh! that doesn't matter. They'll stop there till
dawn. Besides, they've bored me enough as it is."

44 Well, it is very kind of you, I am sure. Grischka
you can go."

44 Good-night, Miss," said the boy, as he noiselessly
disappeared. Sina and Sanine were left there alone.

44 Take my arm," he suggested, 44 or else you may fall."

Sina placed her arm in his, feeling a strange emotion
as she touched his muscles that were hard as steel. Thus
they went on in the darkness, through the woods to the
river. In the wood it was pitch-dark, as if all the trees
had been fused and melted in a warm, impenetrable mist.

44 Oh ! how dark it is ! "

44 That doesn't matter," whispered Sanine in her ear.
His voice trembled slightly. 44 1 like woods best at
night time. It is then that man strips off his everyday
mask and becomes bolder, more mysterious, more
interesting."

As the sandy soil slipped beneath their feet, Sina found
it difficult to save herself from falling. It was this dark-
ness and this physical contact with* a supple, masterful
male to whom she had always been drawn, that now
caused her most exquisite agitation. Her face glowed,
her soft arm shared its warmth with that of Sanine 's,
and her laughter was forced and incessant.

At the foot of the hill it was less dark. Moonlight lay
on the river, and a cool breeze from its broad surface

286 S A N I N E

fanned their cheeks. Mysteriously the wood receded in
the gloom, as though it had given them into the river's
charge.

" Where is your boat ? "

" There it is."

The boat lay sharply denned against the bright, smooth
surface of the stream. While Sanine got the oars into
position, Sina, balancing herself with outstretched arms,
took her place in the stern. All at once the moonlight and
the luminous reflections from the water gave a fantastic
radiance to her form. Pushing off the boat from land,
Sanine sprang into it. With a slight grating sound the
keel slid over the sand and cut the water, as the boat
swam into the moonlight, leaving broad ripples in its
wake.

" Let me row," said Sina, suddenly endued with strange,
overmastering strength. M I love rowing."

" Very well, sit here, then," said Sanine, standing in the
middle of the boat.

Again her supple form brushed lightly past him and
as, with his finger-tips, she touched his proffered hand,
he could glance downwards at her shapely bosom. . . .

Thus they floated down the stream. The moonlight,
shining upon her pale face with its dark eyebrows and
gleaming eyes, gave a certain lustre to her simple white
dress. To Sanine it seemed as if they were entering a
land of faerie, far removed from all men, outside the
pale of human law and reason.

" What a lovely night ! " exclaimed Sina.

14 Lovely, isn't it ? " replied Sanine in an undertone.

All at once, she burst out laughing.

" I don't know why, but I feel as if I should like to
throw my hat into the water, and let down my hair,"
she said, yielding to a sudden impulse.

" Then do it, by all means," murmured Sanine.

But she grew ill at ease and was silent.

Under the stimulating influence of the calm, sultry,
unfathomable night, her thoughts again reverted to her
recent experiences. It seemed to her impossible that
Sanine should not know of these, and it was just this

S A N I N E 287

which made her joy the more intense. Unconsciously
she longed to make him aware that she was not always
so gentle and modest, but that she could also be something
vastly different when she threw off the mask. It was this
secret longing that made her flushed and elated.

" You have known Yourii Nicolaijevitsch for a long
while, haven't you ? " she asked in a faltering voice,
irresistibly impelled to hover above an abyss,

" No," replied Sanine. " Why do you ask ? "

" Oh ! I merely asked. He's a clever fellow, don't
you think ? "

Her tone was one of childish timidity, as if she sought
to obtain something from a person far older than herself,
who had the right to caress or to punish her.

Sanine smiled at her, as he said :

" Ye . . . es ! "

From his voice Sina knew that he was smiling, and
she blushed deeply.

"No . . . but, really he is. . . . Well, he seems to be
very unhappy." Her lip quivered.

" Most likely. Unhappy he certainly is. Are you
sorry for him ? "

" Of course I am," said Sina with feigned naivete.

" It's only natural," said Sanine, " but 4 unhappy '
means to you something different from what it really is.
You think that a man spiritually discontented, who is
for ever analysing his moods and his actions counts,
not as a deplorably unhappy person, but as one of extra-
ordinary individuality and power. Such perpetual self-
analysis appears to you a fine trait which entitles that
man to think himself better than all others, and deserving
not merely of compassion, but of love and esteem."

" Well, what else is it, if not that ? " asked Sina
ingenuously.

She had never talked so much to Sanine before. That
he was an original, she knew by hearsay ; and she now
felt agreeably perturbed at encountering so novel and
interesting a personality.

Sanine laughed.

" There was a time when man lived the narrow life

288 S A N I N E

of a brute, not holding himself responsible for his actions
nor his feelings. This was followed by the period of
conscious life, and at its outset man was wont to over-
estimate his own sentiments and needs and desires. Here,
at this stage, stands Svarogitsch. He is the last of the
Mohicans, the final representative of an epoch of human
evolution which has disappeared for evermore. He has
absorbed, as it were, all the essences of that epoch,
which have poisoned his very soul. He does not really
live his life ; each act, each thought is questioned.
4 Have I done right ? ' ' Have I done wrong ? ' In his
case this becomes almost absurd. In politics he is not
sure whether it is not beneath his dignity to rank himself
with others, yet, if he retires from politics, he wonders if
it is not humiliating to stand aloof. There are many such
persons. If Yourii Svarogitsch forms an exception, it is
solely on account of his superior intelligence."

" I do not quite understand you," began Sina timidly.
" You speak of Yourii Nicolaijevitsch as if he himself
were to blame for not being other than what he is. If
life fails to satisfy a man, then that man stands above
life."

" Man cannot be above life," replied Sanine, " for he
himself is but a fraction of it. He may be dissatisfied,
but the cause for such discontent lies in himself. He
either cannot or dare not take from life's treasures enough
for his actual needs. There are people who spend their
lives in a prison. Others are afraid to escape from it,
like some captive bird that fears to fly away when set
free. . . . The body and spirit of man form one complete
harmonious whole, disturbed only by the dread approach
of death. But it is we ourselves who disturb such harmony
by our own distorted conception of life. We have branded as
bestial our physical desires ; we have become ashamed of
them; we have shrouded them in degrading forms and tram-
mels. Those of us who by nature are weak, do not notice
this, but drag on through life in chains, while those who are
crippled by a false conception of life, it is they who are
the martyrs. The pent-up forces crave an outlet ; the
body pines for joy, and suffers torment through its own

S A N I N E 289

impotence. Their life is one of perpetual discord and
uncertainty, and they catch at any straw that might help
them to a newer theory of morals, till at last so melancholy
do they become that they are afraid to live, afraid to feel."

" Yes, yes," was Sina's vigorous assent.

A host of new thoughts invaded her mind. As with
shining eyes she glanced round, the splendour of the night,
the beauty of the calm river and of the dreaming woods
in moonlight seemed to penetrate her whole being. Again
she was possessed by that vague longing for sheer dominant
strength that should yield her delight.

" My dream is always of some golden age," continued
Sanine, " when nothing shall stand between man and his
happiness, and when, fearless and free, he can gave himself
up to all attainable enjoyments."

44 Yes, but how is he to do that ? By a return to
barbarism ? "

" No. The epoch when man lived like a brute was a
miserable, barbarous one, and our own epoch, in which
the body, dominated by the mind, is kept under and set
in the background lacks sense and vigour. But humanity
has not lived in vain. It has created new conditions of
life which give no scope either for grossness or asceticism."

" Yes, but what of love ? Does not that impose
obligations upon us ? " asked Sina hurriedly.

" No. If love imposes grievous obligations, it is
through jealousy, and jealousy is the outcome of slavery.
In any form slavery causes harm. Men should enjoy
what love can give them fearlessly and without restrictions.
If this were so, love would be infinitely richer and more
varied in all its forms, and more influenced by chance and
opportunity."

" I hadn't the least fear just now," was Sina's proud
reflection. She suddenly looked at Sanine, feeling as if
this were her first sight of him. There he sat, facing
her, in the stern, a fine figure of a man ; dark-eyed,
broad-shouldered, intensely virile.

" What a handsome fellow ! " she thought. A whole
world of unknown forces and emotions lay before her.
Should she enter that world ? She smiled at her now

290 S A N I N E

curiosity, trembling all over. Sanine must have guessed
what was passing in her mind. His breath came quicker,
almost in gasps.

In passing through a narrow part of the stream, the
oars caught in the trailing foliage and slipped from Sina's
hands.

" I can't get along here, it's so narrow," she said
timidly. Her voice sounded gentle and musical as the
rippling of the stream.

Sanine stood up, and moved towards her.

" What is it ? " she asked in alarm.

" It's all right, I am only going to . . ."

Sina rose in her turn, and attempted to get to the
rudder.

The boat rocked so violently that she well nigh lost
her balance, and involuntarily she caught hold of Sanine,
after falling almost into his arms. At that moment,
almost unconsciously, and never believing it possible,
she gently prolonged their contact. It was this touch of
her that in a moment fired his blood, while she, sensible of
his ardour, irresistibly responded thereto.

" Ah ! " exclaimed Sanine, in surprise and delight.

He embraced her passionately, forcing her backwards,
so that her hat fell off.

The boat rocked with greater violence, as invisible
wavelets dashed against the shore.

" What are you doing ? " she cried, in a faint voice.
" Let me go ! For heaven's sake ! . . . What are you
doing? . . ."

She struggled to free herself from those arms of steel,
but Sanine crushed her firm bosom closer, closer to his
own, till such barriers as there had been between them
ceased to exist.

Around them, only darkness ; the moist odour of the
river and the reeds ; an atmosphere now hot, now cold ;
profound silence. Suddenly, unaccountably, she lost all
power of volition and of thought ; her limbs relaxed,
and she surrendered to another's will.

XXXIX

Recovering herself at last, she perceived the bright
image of the moon in the dark water, and Sanine's face
bending over her with glittering eyes. She felt that his
arms were wound tightly round her, and that one of the
oars was chafing her knee.

Then she began to weep gently, persistently, without
freeing herself from Sanine's embrace.

Her tears were for that which was irretrievable.
Fear and pity for herself, and fondness for him made her
weep. Sanine lifted her up and set her on his knee.
She meekly submitted like some sorrowful child. As in
a dream she could hear him gently comforting her in a
tender, grateful voice.

" I shall drown myself." The thought seemed an
answer to a third person's stern question, " What have
you done, and what will you do now ? "

" What shall I do now ? " she asked aloud.

" We will see," replied Sanine.

She tried to slip off his knees, but he held her fast, so
she remained there, thinking it strange that she could feel
for him neither hatred nor disgust.

" It doesn't matter what happens, now," she said to
herself, yet a secret physical curiosity prompted her to
wonder what this strong man, a stranger, and yet so close
a friend, would do with her.

After a while, he took the oars, and she reclined beside
him, her eyes half-closed, and trembling every time that
his hand in rowing moved close to her bosom. As the
boat with a grating sound touched the shore, Sina opened
her eyes. She saw fields, and water, and white mist,
and the moon like a pale phantom ready to flee at dawn.
It was now daybreak and a cool breeze was blowing.

" Shall I go with you ? " asked Sanine gently.

" No. I'd rather go alone," she replied.

Sanine lifted her out of the boat. It was a joy to him
to do this, for he felt that he loved her, and was grateful

291

292 S A N I N E

to her. As he put her down on the shore after embracing
her fondly, she stumbled.

" Oh ! you beauty ! " exclaimed Sanine, in a voice full
of passion and tenderness and pity.

She smiled in unconscious pride. Sanine took hold of
her hands, and drew her to him.

" Kiss me ! "

" It doesn't matter ; nothing matters now," she
thought, as she gave him a long, passionate kiss on his
lips.

" Good-bye," she murmured, scarcely knowing what
she said.

" Don't be angry with me, darling," pleaded Sanine.

As she crossed the dyke, staggering as she went, and
tripping over her dress, Sanine watched her with sorrow-
ful eyes. It grieved him to think of all the needless
suffering that was in store for her and which, as he fore-
saw, she had not the strength to set aside.

Slowly her figure moved forward to meet the dawn,
and it soon vanished in the white mist.

When he could no longer see her, Sanine leapt into the
boat, and by a few powerful strokes lashed the water to
foam. In mid-stream, as the dense morning mists rose
round him, Sanine dropped the oars, stood erect in the
boat and uttered a great shout of joy. And the woods
and the mists, as if alive, responded to his cry.

XL

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 win-
dows, 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

293

294 S A N I N E

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, fshe 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 re-
membered how she had always thought herself purer and
more beautiful than her friend, and the change that had
come caused her intense anguish.

Yet all this lay hidden deep in her heart, and outwardly
she was perfectly calm ; indeed, almost gay. She put
on a pretty dark-blue dress, and, taking her hat and sun-
shade, walked to school in her usual buoyant way, where
she remained until noon, and then returned home.

In the street she met Lida Sanina. They both stood
there in the sunlight, graceful, young, and pretty, as with
smiles on their lips they talked of trifling things. Lida
felt morbidly hostile towards Sina, happy and free
from care as she imagined her to be, while the latter
envied Lida her liberty and her pleasant, easy life.
Each believed herself to be the victim of cruel in-
justice.

" I am surely better than she is. Why is she so happy,
and why must I suffer ? " In both their minds this
thought was uppermost.

After lunch, Sina took a book and sat near the window,
listlessly gazing at the garden that was still touched with

S A N I N E 295

the splendour of the dying summer. The emotional crisis
had passed, and now her mood was one of apathy and
indifference.

" Ah ! Well, it's all over with me now," she kept re-
peating. " I'd better die."

Sina saw Sanine before he noticed her. Tall and calm,
he crossed the garden, thrusting aside the branches as if
to greet them by his touch. Leaning back in her chair,
and pressing the book against her bosom, she watched
him, wild-eyed, as he slowly approached the window.

" Good day," he said, holding out his hand.

Before she could rise or recover from her amazement
he repeated in a gentle, caressing tone.

'c Good morning to you."

Sina felt utterly powerless. She only murmured :
'Good morning."

Sanine leant on the window-sill and said :

" Do come out into the garden for a little while and
have a talk."

Sina got up, swayed by a strange force that robbed her
of her will.

" I'll wait for you there," added Sanine.

She merely nodded.

As he strolled back to the garden Sina was afraid to
look at him. For some seconds she remained motionless,
with her hands clasped, and then suddenly went out,
holding up her dress so as to walk more easily.

Sunlight touched the bright-hued autumn foliage ; and
the garden seemed steeped in a golden haze. As Sina
hastened towards him, Sanine was standing at some
distance in the middle of the path. His smile troubled
her. He took her hand, and, sitting on the trunk of a
tree, gently drew her on to his lap.

"I am not sure," he began, " that I ought to have
come- here to see you, for you may think that I have
treated you very badly. But I could not stay away.
I wanted to explain things, so that you might not utterly
hate and loathe me. After all . . . what else could I
do ? How was I to resist ? There came a moment when
I felt that the last barrier between us had fallen, and that,

296 SANINE

if I missed this moment of my life, it would never again
be mine. You're so beautiful, so young ..."

Sina was mute. Her soft, transparent ear, half-hidden
by her hair, became rosy, and her long eyelashes quivered.

" You're miserable, now, and yesterday, how beautiful
it all was," he said. " Sorrows only exist because man
has set a price upon his own happiness. If our way of
living were different, last night would remain in our
memory as one of life's most beautiful and precious
experiences."

" Yes, if . . ." she said mechanically. Then, all at
once, much to her own surprise, she smiled. And as
sunrise, and the song of birds, and the sound of whispering
reeds, so this smile seemed to cheer her spirit. Yet it
was but for a moment.

All at once she saw her whole future life before her, a
broken life of sorrow and shame. The prospect was so
horrible that it roused hatred.

" Go away ! Leave me ! " she said sharply. Her teeth
were clenched and her face wore a hard, vindictive ex-
pression as she rose to her feet.

Sanine pitied her. For a moment he was moved to
offer her his name and his protection, yet something held
him back. He felt that such amends would be too mean.

" Ah ! well," he thought, " life must just take its
course."

" I know that you are in love with Yourii Svarogitsch,"
he began. " Perhaps it is that which grieves you most ? "

" I am in love with no one," murmured Sina, clasping
her hands convulsively.

" Don't bear me any ill-will," pleaded Sanine. " You're
just as beautiful as ever you were, and the same happiness
that you gave to me, you will give to him you love — far
more, indeed, far more. I wish you from my heart all
possible joy, and I shall always picture you to myself
as I saw you last night. Good-bye . . . and, if ever you
need me, send for me. If I could ... I would give my
life for you."

Sina looked at him, and was silent, stirred by strange
pity.

S A N I N E 297

" It may all come right, who knows ? " she thought,
and for a moment matters did not seem so dreadful.
They gazed into each other's eyes steadfastly, knowing
that in their hearts they held a secret which no one would
ever discover, and the memory of which would always be
bright.

" Well, good-bye," said Sina, in a gentle, girlish voice.

Sanine looked radiant with pleasure. She held out her
hand, and they kissed, simply, affectionately, like brother
and sister.

Sina accompanied Sanine as far as the garden-gate
and sorrowfully watched him go. Then she went back
to the garden, and lay down on the scented grass that
waved and rustled round her. She shut her eyes, thinking
of all that had happened, and wondering whether she
ought to tell Yourii or not.

" No, no," she said to herself, " I won't think any more
about it. Some things are best forgotten."

XLI

Next morning Yourii rose late, feeling indisposed. His
head ached, and he had a bad taste in his mouth. At first
he could only recollect shouts, jingling glasses, and the
waning light of lamps at dawn. Then he remembered
how, stumbling and grunting, Schafroff and Peter Ilitsch
had retired, while he and Ivanoff — the latter pale with
drink, but firm on his feet — stood talking on the balcony.
They had no eyes for the radiant morning sky, pale green
at the horizon, and changing over head to blue ; they did
not see the fair meadows and fields, nor the shining river
that lay below.

They still went on arguing. Ivanoff triumphantly
proved to Yourii that people of his sort were worthless,
since they feared to take from life that which life offered
them. They were far better dead and forgotten. It was
with malicious pleasure that he quoted Peter Ilitsch's
remark, " I should certainly never call such persons
men," as he laughed wildly, imagining that he had
demolished Yourii by such a phrase. Yet, strange to say,
Yourii was not annoyed by it, dealing only with Ivanoff 's
assertion that his life was a miserable one. That, he said,
was because " people of his sort " were more sensitive,
more highly-strung ; and he agreed that they were far
better out of the world. Then, becoming intensely
depressed, he almost wept. He now recollected wit
shame how he had been on the point of telling Ivano:
of his love-episode with Sina, and had almost flung the
honour of that pure, lovely girl at the feet of this truculent
sot. When at last Ivanoff, growling, had gone ou
into the courtyard, the room to Yourii seemed horribl
dreary and deserted.

There was a mist over everything ; only the dirt
table-cloth, with its green radish-stalks, empty beer
glasses and cigarette-ends danced before his eyes, as h
sat there, huddled-up and forlorn.

Afterwards, he remembered, Ivanoff came back, an

298

i

S A N I N E 299

with him was Sanine. The latter seemed gay, talkative and
perfectly sober. He looked at Yourii in a strange maimer,
half -friendly and half-derisive. Then his thoughts turned
to the scene in the wood with Sina. " It would have been
base of me if I had taken advantage of her weakness,"
he said to himself. " Yet what shall I do now ? Possess
her, and then cast her off ? No, I could never do that ;
I'm too kind-hearted. Well, what then ? Marry her ? "
Marriage ! To Yourii the very word sounded appallingly
commonplace. How could anyone of his complex
temperament endure the idea of a philistine menage ?
It was impossible. " And yet I love her," he thought.
" Why should I put her from me, and go ? Why should I
destroy my own happiness ? It's monstrous ! It's
absurd!"

On reaching home, in order to take his thoughts off
the one engrossing subject, he sat down at the table and
proceeded to read over certain sententious passages
written by him recently.

44 In this world there is neither good nor bad."
" Some say : what is natural is good, and that man is
right in his desires."

44 But that is false, for all is natural. In darkness and
void nothing is born ; all has the same origin."

44 Yet others say : All is good which comes from God.
Yet that likewise is false ; for, if God exists, then all things
come from Him, even blasphemy."

" Again, there are those who say : goodness lies in
doing good to others."

44 How can that be ? What is good for one, is bad for
another."

44 The slave desires his liberty, while his master wants
him to remain a slave. The wealthy man wants to keep
his wealth, and the poor man, to destroy the rich ; he
who is oppressed, to be free ; the victor to remain un-
vanquished ; the loveless to be loved ; the living not to
die. Man desires the destruction of beasts, just as beasts
wish to destroy man. Thus it was in the beginning, and
thus it ever shall be ; nor has any man a special right to
get good that is good for him alone."

300 S A N I N E

" Men are wont to say that loving-kindness is better than
hatred. Yet that is false, for if there be a reward, then
certainly it is better to be kind and unselfish, but if not,
then it is better for a man to take his share of happiness
beneath the sun."

Yourii read on, thinking that these written meditations
of his were amazingly profound.

" It's all so true ! " he said to himself, and in his
melancholy there was a touch of pride.

He went to the window and looked out into the garden
where the paths were strewn with yellow leaves. The
sickly hue of death confronted him at every point —
dying leaves and dying insects whose lives depend on
warmth and light.

Yourii could not comprehend this calm. The pageant
of dying summer filled his soul with wrath unutter-
able.

" Autumn already ; and then winter, and the snow.
Then spring, and summer, and autumn again ! The
eternal monotony of it all ! And what shall I be doing
all the while ? Exactly what I'm doing now. At best,
I shall become dull-witted, caring for nothing. Then
old age, and death."

The same thoughts that had so often harassed him
now rushed through his brain. Life, so he said, had passed
by him ; after all, there was no such thing as an exceptional
existence ; even a hero's life is full of tedium, grievous
at the outset, and joyless at the close.

" An achievement ! A victory of some sort ! " Yourii
wrung his hands in despair. " To blaze up, and then to
expire, without fear, without pain. That is the only
real life ! "

A thousand exploits one more heroic than the other,
presented themselves to his mind, each like some grinning
death's head. Closing his eyes, Yourii could clearly
behold a grey Petersburg morning, damp brick walls and
a gibbet faintly outlined against the leaden sky. He
pictured the barrel of a revolver pressed to his brow ;
he imagined that he could hear the whiz of naga'ikas as
they struck his defenceless face and naked back.

S A N I N E 301

" That's what's in store for one ! To that one must
come ! " he exclaimed.

The deeds of heroism vanished, and in their place, his
own helplessness grinned at him like a mocking mask.
He felt that all his dreams of victory and valour were only
childish fancies.

" Why should I sacrifice my own life or submit to
insult and death in order that the working classes in the
thirty-second century may not suffer through want of
food or of sexual satisfaction ? The devil take all workers
and non- workers in this world ! "

" I wish somebody would shoot me," he thought.
" Kill me, right out, with a shot aimed from behind,
so that I should feel nothing. What nonsense, isn't it ?
Why must somebody else do it ? and not I myself ? Am
I really such a coward that I cannot pluck up courage
to end this life which I know to be nothing but misery ?
Sooner or later, one must die, so that ..."

He approached the drawer in which he kept his revolver,
and furtively took it out.

" Suppose I were to try ? Not really because I . . .
just for fun ! "

He slipped the weapon into his pocket and went out
on to the veranda leading to the garden. On the steps lay
yellow, withered leaves. He kicked them in all directions
as he whistled a melancholy tune.

" What's that you're whistling ? " asked Lialia, gaily,
as she came across the garden. " It's like a dirge for your
departed youth."

" Don't talk nonsense ! " replied Yourii irritably ;
and from that moment he felt the approach of something
that it was beyond his power to prevent. Like an animal
that knows death is near, he wandered restlessly hither
and thither, to look for some quiet spot. The court-
yard only irritated him, so he walked down to the river
where yellow leaves were floating, and threw a dry twig
into the stream. For a long time he watched the
eddying circles on the water as the floating leaves
danced. He turned back and went towards the house,
stopping to look at the ruined flower-beds where the last

302 S A N I N E

red blossoms yet lingered. Then he returned to the
garden.

There, amid the brown and yellow foliage one oak-tree
stood whose leaves were green. On the bench beneath
it a yellow cat lay sunning itself. Yourii gently stroked
its soft furry back, as tears rose to his eyes.

" This is the end ! This is the end ! " he kept repeating
to himself. Senseless though the words seemed to him,
they struck him like an arrow in the heart.

" No, no ! What nonsense ! My whole life lies
before me. I'm only twenty-four years old ! It's not
that. Then, what is it ? "

He suddenly thought of Sina, and how impossible it
would be to meet her after that outrageous scene in the
wood. Yet how could he possibly help meeting her ?
The shame of it overwhelmed him. It would be better to
die.

The cat arched its back and purred with pleasure,
the sound was like a bubbling samovar. Yourii watched
it attentively, and then began to walk up and down.

" My life's so wearisome, so horribly dreary. . . . Besides,
I can't say if . . . No, no, I'd rather die than see her
again ! "

Sina had gone out of his life for ever. The future, cold,
grey, void, lay before him, a long chain of loveless, hope-
less days.

" No, I'd rather die ! "

Just then, with heavy tread, the coachman passed,
carrying a pail of water, and in it there floated leaves,
dead, yellow leaves. The maid-servant appeared in the
doorway, and called out to Yourii. For a long while he
could not understand what she said.

" Yes, yes, all right ! " he replied when at last he
realized that she was telling him lunch was ready.

" Lunch ? " he said to himself in horror. "To go into
lunch ! Everything just as before ; to go on living and
worrying as to what I ought to do about Sina, about my
own life, and my own acts ? So I'd better be quick,
or else, if I go to lunch, there won't be time afterwards."

A strange desire to make haste dominated him, and he

S A N I N E 303

trembled violently in every limb. He felt conscious that
nothing was going to happen, and yet he had a clear
presentiment of approaching death ; there was a buzzing
in his ears from sheer terror.

With hands tucked under her white apron, the maid-
servant still stood motionless on the veranda, enjoying the
soft autumnal air.

Like a thief, Yourii crept behind the oak-tree, so that
no one should see him from the veranda, and with startling
suddenness shot himself in the chest.

" Missed fire ! " he thought with delight, longing to live,
and dreading death. But above him he saw the topmost
branches of the oak-tree against the azure sky, and the
yellow cat that leapt away in alarm.

Uttering a shriek, the maid-servant rushed indoors.
Immediately afterwards it seemed to Yourii as if he were
surrounded by a huge crowd of people. Some one poured
cold water on his head, and a yellow leaf stuck to his
brow, much to his discomfort. He heard excited voices
on all sides, and some one sobbing, and crying out :
" Youra, Youra ! Oh ! why, why ? "

" That's Lialia ! " thought Yourii. Opening his eyes
wide, he began to struggle violently, as in a frenzy he
screamed :

" Send for the doctor — quick ! "

But to his horror he felt that all was over — that now
nothing could save him. The dead leaves sticking to his
brow felt heavier and heavier, crushing his brain. He
stretched out his neck in a vain effort to see more clearly,
but the leaves grew and grew, till they had covered
everything ; and what then happened to him Yourii
never knew.

XLII

Those who knew Yourii Svarogitsch, and those who did
not, those who liked, as those who despised him, even
those who had never thought about him were sorry,
now that he was dead.

Nobody could understand why he had done it ; though
they all imagined that they knew, and that in their
inmost souls they held of his thoughts a share. There
seemed something so beautiful about suicide, of which
tears, flowers, and noble words were the sequel. Of his
own relatives not one attended the funeral. His father
had had a paralytic stroke, and Lialia could not leave
him for a moment. Riasantzeff alone represented the
family, and had charge of all the burial-arrangements.
It was this solitariness that to spectators appeared
particularly sad, and gave a certain mournful grandeur
to the personality of the deceased.

Many flowers, beautiful, scentless, autumn flowers,
were brought and placed on the bier ; in the midst of
their red and white magnificence the face of Yourii lay
calm and peaceful, showing no trace of conflict or of
suffering.

When the coffin was borne past Sina's house, she and
her friend Dubova joined the funeral-procession. Sim
looked utterly dejected and unnerved, as if she were
being led out to shameful execution. Although she felt
convinced that Yourii had heard nothing of her disgrace,
there was yet, as it seemed to her, a certain connection
between that and his death which would always remain a
mystery. The burden of unspeakable shame was hers
to bear alone. She deemed herself utterly miserable
and depraved.

Throughout the night she had wept, as in fancy she fondb
kissed the face of her dead lover. When morning came
her heart was full of hopeless love for Yourii, and of
bitter hatred for Sanine. Her accidental liaison with
the last-named resembled a hideous dream. All that

304

S A N I N E 305

Sanine had told her, and which at the moment she had
believed, was now revolting to her. She had fallen over
a precipice ; and rescue there was none. When Sanine
approached her she stared at him in horror and disgust
before turning abruptly away.

As her cold fingers slightly touched his hand held out
in hearty greeting, Sanine at once knew all that she
thought and felt. Henceforth they could only be as
strangers to each other. He bit his lip, and joined
Ivanoff who followed at some distance, shaking his
smooth fair hair.

" Hark at Peter Ilitsch ! " said Sanine, " how he's
forcing his voice ! "

A long way ahead, immediately behind the coffin,
they were chanting a dirge, and Peter Ilitsch's long-
drawn, quavering notes filled the air.

" Funny thing, eh ? " began Ivanoff. " A feeble sort
of chap, and yet he goes and shoots himself all in a
moment, like that ! "

" It's my belief," replied Sanine, " that three seconds
before the pistol went off he was uncertain whether to
shoot himself or not. As he lived, so he died."

" Ah ! well," said the other, " at any rate, he's found
a place for himself."

This, to Ivanoff, as he tossed back his yellow hair,
appeared to be the last word in explanation of the tragic
occurrence. Personally, it soothed him much.

In the graveyard the scene was even more autumnal,
where the trees seemed splashed with dull red gold, while
here and there the grass showed green through the heaps
of withered leaves. The tombstones and crosses looked
whiter in this dull setting.

So the black earth received Yourii.

Just at that awful moment when the coffin disappeared
from view and the earth became a barrier for ever between
the quick and the dead, Sina uttered a piercing shriek.
Her sobs echoed through the quiet burial-ground, painfully
affecting the little group of silent mourners. She no
longer cared to hide her secret from the others who now
all guessed it, horrified that death should have separated

и

306 S A N I N E

this handsome young woman from her lover to whom she
had longed to give all her youth and beauty, and who now
lay dead in the grave.

They led her away, and the sound of her weeping
gradually subsided. The grave was hastily filled in,
a mound of earth being raised above it on which little
green fir-trees were planted.
Schafroff grew restless.

" I say, somebody ought to make a speech. Gentle-
men, this won't do ! There ought to be a speech," he
said, hurriedly accosting the bystanders in turn.

" Ask Sanine," was Ivanoff's malicious suggestion.
Schafroff stared at the speaker in amazement, whose face
wore an inscrutable expression.

" Sanine ? Sanine ? Where's Sanine ? " he exclaimed.
" Ah 1 Vladimir Petrovitch, will you say a few words ?
We can't go away without a speech."

" Make one yourself, then," replied Sanine morosely.
He was listening to Sina, sobbing in the distance.

" If I could do so I would. He really was a very re . . .
mark . . . able man, wasn't he ? Do, please, say a
word or two I "

Sanine looked hard at him, and replied almost angrily.
" What is there to say ? One fool less in the world.
That's all ! "

The bitter words fell with startling clearness on the
ears of those present. Such was their amazement that
they were at a loss for a reply, but Dubova, in a shrill
voice, cried :

" How disgraceful I "

" Why ? " asked Sanine, shrugging his shoulders.
Dubova sought to shout at him, threatening him
with her fists, but was restrained by several girls who
surrounded her. The company broke up in disorder.
Vehement sounds of protest were heard on every side, and
like a group of withered leaves scattered by the wind,
the crowd dispersed. Schafroff at first ran on in front,
but soon afterwards came back again. Riasantzeff stood
with others aside, and gesticulated violently.

Lost in his thoughts, Sanine gazed at the angry face

S A N I N E 307

of a person wearing spectacles, and then turned round to
join Ivanoff, who appeared perplexed. When referring
Schafroff to Sanine he had foreseen a contretemps of some
sort, but not one of so serious a nature. While it amused
him, he yet felt sorry that it had occurred. Not knowing
what to say, he looked away, beyond the grave-stones
and crosses, to the distant fields.

A young student stood near him, engaged in heated
talk. Ivanoff froze him with a glance.

" I suppose you think yourself ornamental ? " he said.

The lad blushed.

" That's not in the least funny," he replied.

" Funny be d d ! You clear off ! "

There was such a wicked look in Ivanoff's eyes that the
disconcerted youth soon went away.

Sanine watched this little scene and smiled.

" What fools they are ! " he exclaimed.

Instantly Ivanoff felt ashamed that even for a moment
he should have wavered.

" Come on ! " he said. " Deuce take the lot of them ! "

" All right ! Let's go ! "

They walked past Riasantzeff who scowled at them as
they went towards the gate. At some distance Sanine
noticed another group of young men whom he did not know
and who stood, like a flock of sheep, with their heads close
together. In their midst stood Schafroff, talking and
gesticulating, but he became silent on seeing Sanine. The
others all turned to look at the last-named. Their
faces expressed honest indignation and a certain shy
curiosity.

" They're plotting against you," said Ivanoff, somewhat
amazed to see the baleful look in Sanine's eyes. Red as
a lobster, Schafroff came forward, blinking his eyelids, and
approached Sanine, who turned round sharply on his
heel, as though he were ready to knock the first man
down.

Schafroff probably perceived this, for he turned pale,
and stopped at a respectful distance. The students and
girls followed close at his heels like a flock of sheep behind
a bell-wether.

308 S A N I N E

" What else do you want ? " asked Sanine, without
raising his voice.

" We want nothing," replied Schafroff in confusion.
" but all my fellow-comrades wish me to express their
displeasure at "

" Much I care about your displeasure ! " hissed Sanine
through his clenched teeth. " You asked me to say
something about the deceased, and after I had said what
I thought, you come and express to me your displeasure !
Very good of you, I'm sure ! If you weren't a pack of
silly, sentimental boys, I would show you that I was right,
and that Svarogitsch's life was an absolutely foolish one,
for he worried himself about all sorts of useless things
and died a fool's death, but you — well, you're all of you
too dense and too narrow-minded for words ! To the
deuce with the lot of you ! Be off, I say ! "

So saying, he walked straight on, forcing the crowd
to make way for him.

" Don't push, please ! " croaked Schafroff, feebly
protesting.

" Well of all the insolent ..." cried some one, but
he did not finish his phrase.

" How is it you frighten people like that ? " asked
Ivanoff, as they walked down the street. "You're a
perfect terror ! "

" If such young fellows with their mad ideas about
liberty were always to come bothering you," replied
Sanine, " I expect that you would treat them in a much
rougher way. Let them all go to hell ! "

" Cheer up, my friend ! " said Ivanoff, half in jest and
half in earnest. " Do you know what we'll do ? Buy
some beer and drink to the memory of Yourii Svarogitsch.
Shall we?"

" If you like," replied Sanine carelessly.

" By the time we get back all the others will have go]
continued Ivanoff, " and we'll drink at the side of
grave, giving honour to the dead and to ourselves en-
joyment."

" Very well."

When they returned, not a living soul was to be seen,

S A N I N E 309

The tomb-stones and crosses, erect and rigid, stood there
as in mute expectation. From a heap of dry leaves a
hideous black snake suddenly darted across the path.

" Reptile ! " cried Ivanoff, shuddering.

Then, on to the grass beside the newly-made grave that
smelt of humid mould and green fir-trees they flung their
empty beer-bottles.

XLII1

" Look here,"- said Sanine, as they walked down the
street in the dusk.

" Well, what is it ? "

" Come to the railway-station with me. I'm going
away."

Ivanoff stood still.

" Why ? "

" Because this place bores me."

" Something has scared you, eh ? "

" Scared me ? I'm going because I wish to go."

" Yes, but the reason ? "

" My good fellow, don't ask silly questions. I want to
go, «and that's enough. As long as one hasn't found
people out, there is always a chance that they may prove
interesting. Take some of the folk here, for instance.
Sina Karsavina, or Semenoff, or Lida even, who might
have avoided becoming commonplace. But oh ! they
bore me now. I'm tired of them. I've put up with it
all as long as I could ; I can't stand it any longer."

Ivanoff looked at him for a good while.

" Come, come ! " he said. " You'll surely say good-bye
to your people ? "

" Not I ! It's just they who bore me most."

" But what about luggage ? "

" I haven't got much. If you'll stop in the garden,
I'll go into my room and hand you my valise through the
window. Otherwise they'll see me, and overwhelm me
with questions as to why and wherefore. Besides, what
is there to say ? "

" Oh ! I see ! " drawled Ivanoff, as with a gesture he
seemed to bid the other adieu. " I'm very sorry that
you're going, my friend, but . . . what can I do ? "

" Come with me."

" Where ? "

" It doesn't matter where. We can see about that,
later."

310

SANINE 311

" But I've no money ? "

Sanine laughed.

" Neither have I."

" No, no, you'd better go by yourself. School begins
in a fortnight, and I shall get back into the old groove."

Each looked straight into the other's eyes, and Ivanoff
turned away in confusion, as if he had seen a distorted
reflection of his own face in a mirror.

Crossing the yard, Sanine went indoors while Ivanoff
waited in the dark garden, with its sombre shadows and
its odour of decay. The leaves rustled under his feet
as he approached Sanine's bedroom-window. When
Sanine passed through the drawing-room he heard voices
on the veranda, and he stopped to listen.

" But what do you want of me ? " he could hear Lida
saying. Her peevish, languid tone surprised him.

" I want nothing," replied Novikoff irritably, "only
it seems strange that you should think you were sacrificing
yourself for me, whereas "

" Yes, yes, I know," said Lida, struggling with her
tears.

"It is not I, but it is you that are sacrificing yourself.
Yes, it's you ! What more would you have ? "

Novikoff was annoyed.

" How little you understand my meaning 1 " he said.
" I love you, and thus it's no sacrifice. But if you think
that our union implies a sacrifice either on your part or
on mine, how on earth are we going to live together ?
Do try and understand me. We can only live together
on one condition, and that is, if neither of us imagines
that there is any sacrifice about it. Either we love each
other, and our union is a reasonable and natural one, or
we don't love each other, and then "

Lida suddenly began to cry.

" What's the matter ? " exclaimed Novikoff, surprised
and irritated. " I can't make you out. I haven't said
anything that could offend you. Don't cry like that !
Really, one can't say a single word ! "

" I . . . don't know," sobbed Lida, " but . . ."

Sanine frowned, and went into his room.

312 SANINE

" So that's as far as Lida has got ! " he thought. " Per-
haps, if she had drowned herself, it would have been
better, after all."

Underneath the window, Ivanoff could hear Sanine
hastily packing his things. There was a rustling of paper,
and the sound of something that had fallen on the floor.

" Aren't you coming ? " he asked impatiently.

"In a minute," replied Sanine, as his pale face
appeared at the window.

" Catch hold ! "

The valise was promptly handed out to Ivanoff and
Sanine leapt after it.

" Come along ! "

They went swiftly through the garden, that lay dim
and desolate in the dusk. The fires of sunset had paled
beyond the glimmering stream.

At the railway- station all the signal-lamps had been
lighted. A locomotive was snorting and puffing. Men
were running about, banging doors and shouting at each
other. A group of peasants who carried large bundles
filled one part of the platform.

At the refreshment-room Sanine and Ivanoff had a
farewell drink.

" Here's luck, and a pleasant journey ! " said Ivanoff.

Sanine smiled.

" My journeys are always the same," he said. " I
don't expect anything from life, and I don't ask for
anything either. As for luck, there's not much of
that at the finish. Old age and death; that's about
all."

They went out on to the platform, seeking a quiet place
for their leave-taking.

" Well, good-bye ! "

" Good-bye ! "

Hardly knowing why, they kissed each other.

There was a long whistle, and the train began to move.

" Ah ! my boy. I had grown so fond of you," ex-
claimed Ivanoff suddenly. " You're the only real man
that I have ever met."

" And you're the only one that ever cared for me,"

SANINE 313

said Sanine as, laughing, he leapt on to the foot-board
of a carriage as it rolled past.

" Off we go ! " he cried. " Good-bye ! "
The carriages hurried past Ivanoff as if, like Sanine,
they had suddenly resolved to get away. The red
light appeared in the gloom, and then seemed to
become stationary. Ivanoff mournfully watched its
disappearance, and then sauntered homewards through
the ill-lighted streets.

" Shall I drown my sorrow ? " he thought ; and, as he
entered the tavern, the image of his own grey, tedious
life like a ghost went in with him also.

XLIV

The lamps burned dimly in the suffocating atmosphere
of the crowded railway- carriage, shedding their fitful
light on grimy, ragged passengers wedged tightly together,
and wreathed in smoke. Sanine sat next to three peasants.
As he got in, they were engaged in talk, and one half-
hidden by the gloom, said :
r ч -" Things are bad, you say ? "

У Couldn't be worse," replied Sanine's neighbour, an

old grey-haired moujik, in a high, feeble voice. " They

'only think of themselves ; they don't trouble about us.

You may say what you like, but when it comes to fighting

for your skin, the stronger always gets the best of it."

" Then, why make a fuss ? " asked Sanine, who had
guessed what was the subject of their grumbling.

The old man turned to him with a questioning wave of
the hand.

" What else can we do ? "

Sanine got up and changed his seat. He knew these
peasants only too well, who lived like beasts, unable
either to cope with their oppression or to destroy their
oppressors. Vaguely hoping that some miracle might
occur, in waiting for which millions and millions of their
fellow-slaves had perished, they continued to lead their
brutish existence.

Night had come. All were asleep except a little trades-
man sitting opposite to Sanine, who was bullying his
wife. She said nothing, but looked about her with fear
in her eyes.

" Wait a bit, you cow, I'll soon show you ! " he hissed.

Sanine had fallen asleep when a cry from the woman
awoke him. The fellow quickly removed his hand, but
not before Sanine could see that he had been maltreating
his wife.

" What a brute you are ! " exclaimed Sanine, angrily.

The man started backwards in alarm, as he blinked
his small, wicked eyes, and grinned.

314

S A N I N E 315

Sanine in disgust went out on to the platform at the
rear of the train. As he passed through the corridor-
carriages he saw crowds of passengers lying prostrate
across each other. It was daybreak and their weary
faces looked livid in the grey dawn-light which gave them
a helpless, pained expression.

Standing on the platform Sanine drank in draughts of
the cool morning air.

" What a vile thing man is ! " he thought. To get
away, if only for a short while, from all his fellow-men,
from the train, with its foul air, and smoke, and din-*4i. .,,.-
was for that he longed.

Eastward the dawn flamed red. Night's last paid, ^
sickly shadows were merged and lost in the grey-blue
horizon-line beyond the steppe. Sanine did not waste ^"
time in reflection, but, leaving his valise behind him,
jumped off the foot-board.

'With a noise like thunder the train rushed past him
as he fell on to the soft, wet sand of the embankment.
The red lamp on the last carriage was a long way off when
he rose, laughing. ****&

Sanine uttered a cry of joy. " That's good ! " he
exclaimed.

All around him was so free, so vast. Broad, level fields
of grass lay on either side, stretching away to the misty
horizon. Sanine drew a deep breath, as with bright eyes he
surveyed the spacious landscape. Then he strode forward,
facing the jocund, lustrous dawn ; and, as the plain,
awaking, assumed magic tints of blue and green beneath
the wide dome of heaven ; as the first eastern beams
broke on his dazzled sight, it seemed to Sanine that he
was moving onward ; onward to meet the sun.

THE END

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