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!" Speaking 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.
Pages:
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234