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 thinking, "I could hurl
myself in, if I chose."
"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.
"One word, just one!" whispered Sarudine, as he crushed her closer to
him, his veins throbbing with desire; "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.
"Why?" she asked, in a low voice as she gazed dreamily at the moon.
"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.
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