Whenever his work did not prove successful, he became
irritable and depressed; 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.
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