He lay
there, motionless, with eyes closed and teeth clenched, striving to see
nothing, to hear nothing, to feel nothing. But after a little while his
hand dropped, and he sat up. His head ached terribly, his tongue seemed
on fire, and he trembled from head to foot. Then he rose and staggered
to the table.
"I have lost everything; my life, Lida, everything!"
It flashed across him that this life of his, after all, had not been
either good, or glad, or sane, but foolish, perverted and base.
Sarudine, the handsome Sarudine, entitled to all that was best and most
enjoyable in life, no longer existed. There was only a feeble,
emasculated body left to bear all this pain and dishonour.
"To live on is impossible," he thought, "for that would mean the entire
effacement of the past. I should have to begin a new life, to become
quite a different man, and that I cannot do!"
His head fell forward on the table, and in the weird, flickering
candlelight he lay there, motionless.
CHAPTER XXXII.
On that same evening Sanine went to see Soloveitchik.
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