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.
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.
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