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Updated: June 20, 2025
The people who belong to Ananke are those who, acting of necessity, define their world clearly and conquer chaos. Theirs is the immutable truth. The bushes became moist and a fresh breeze blew from the river. Then Alkina came close to Trirodov and whispered to him: "If you are glad that she loves you, tell me, and I will share your gladness." Trirodov pressed her hand warmly.
Alkina sat down on a chair, bent over, and began to undo the buttons of her boots. Then, with evident enjoyment at having freed her feet, she walked slowly across the floor towards the door and turned the key in the lock. "As you know, I have but one joy," she said. She gracefully threw off her clothes and stood before Trirodov with uplifted arms. She was sinuously slender, like a white serpent.
Trirodov surveyed her with admiration and said quietly: "Katya, you are as handsome as always." Alkina was mistrustful. "It's true, isn't it, that clothes have too long cramped my body and injured the skin. How can my body be handsome?" "You are graceful and flexible," answered Trirodov. "The lines of your body are somewhat elongated but wholly elastic.
As soon as they had decided at what entrance he should be received Trirodov went out of the room to make the necessary arrangements. The agreeable consciousness of creative mystery filled him with joy. When Trirodov returned Alkina was standing at the table and turning over the pages of a new book. Her hands trembled slightly. She glanced expectantly at Trirodov.
When the sweet and deep minutes passed, followed by fatigue and shame, Alkina lay there motionlessly with half-closed eyes and then said suddenly: "I've been wanting to ask you, and somehow couldn't decide to. Do you detest me? Perhaps you think me very shameless?" She turned her face towards him and looked at him with frightened, ashamed eyes.
"Bodeyev, from the school, for one." "I do not like his manner of speaking,", said Trirodov. "He's a good party workman," observed Alkina with a timid smile. "He's to be valued for that." "You know, of course, that I am not much of a party man," said Trirodov. Alkina was silent. She trembled lightly as she rose from her seat, then suddenly ceased to be agitated.
But Alkina did not stir; pale, slender, and calm, she stood tightly pressing her body against the almost perpendicular wall of their refuge. The Cossack bent over Kiril, examined him attentively, then muttered as he straightened himself: "Well, there's no breath left in him. You're done for, my clever chap." Then he turned to climb back again.
He never beat me he was not a cultured man for nothing and he never even used coarse words. If he had but called me a fool! I sometimes think that I wouldn't have left him if our quarrels hadn't passed so quietly, if he had but beat me, pulled me by my hair, lashed me with something." "Sweet?" asked Trirodov. "Life is so dull," continued Alkina. "One struggles in the nets of petty annoyances.
Otherwise I shall weep, because I am so ugly and so meagre that you do not wish to recall sometimes my face and my body." "Yes," answered Trirodov, "I have a few films ready." Alkina laughed gleefully and said: "Now kiss me." She bent over Trirodov and almost fell into his arms. The kisses seemed tranquil and innocent; it might have been a sister kissing a brother.
"No, Katya," asserted Trirodov. "The whiteness of your body is not like plaster of paris. It is marble, slightly rose-tinged. It is milk poured into a pink crystal vase. It is mountain snow lit up with the last glow of sunset. It is a white reverie suffused with rose desire." Alkina smiled joyously and flushed lightly as she asked him: "Will you take a few snapshots of me to-day?
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