"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.
"Good-bye," he said, not hearing the sound of his own voice. His
quivering lips were twisted into a meaningless smile.
"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.
"My God! I am doomed to such luck as this! Shoot myself? No, that's all
nonsense! Shoot myself, eh?" Wild, incoherent thoughts flashed through
his brain.
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