"Ah I well yes, perhaps I
had! Oh! my God, what shall I do?"
"And now you are pregnant...."
Lida shut her eyes and bowed her head.
"Of course, it's a bad business," continued Sanine, gently. "In the
first place, giving birth to children is a nasty, painful affair; in
the second place, and what really matters, people would persecute you
incessantly. After all, Lidotschka, my Lidotschka," he said with a
sudden access of affection, "you've not done harm to anybody; and, if
you were to bring a dozen babies into the world, the only person to
suffer thereby would be yourself."
Sanine paused to reflect, as he folded his arms across his chest and
bit the ends of his moustache.
"I could tell you what you ought to do, but you are too weak and too
foolish to follow my advice. You are not plucky enough. Anyhow, it is
not worth while to commit suicide. Look at the sun shining, at the
calm, flowing stream. Once dead, remember, every one would know what
your condition had been. Of what good, then, would that be to you? It
is not because you are pregnant that you want to die, but because you
are afraid of what other folk will say.
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