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It was mounting into Clayton Rand's wagon. Then Dorcas went in where Newell was waiting to kiss her. "He's drove along," she said, from her trance of happiness. "'Lida's gone to ride with him." Already the name meant no more to them then the bubble they had chased. "Come, Dorcas, come," said her lover, in that new voice. "Come here to me."

He smiled, showing his white teeth, and taking Lida's hand, sat down beside her on the bed. "Well, well, it doesn't matter. I was only anxious on your account. I am ever so glad that you've come. I was longing to see you." Sarudine raised her hot, perfumed little hand to his lips, and kissed it just above the glove. "Is that the truth?" asked Lida. The curious tone of her voice surprised him.

The highest and holiest task for a civilised being is to serve his neighbours, and we try to serve them as best we can. You don't like it, but one can't please every one." "That's true, Lida," said her mother "that's true." In Lida's presence she was always a little timid, and looked at her nervously as she talked, afraid of saying something superfluous or inopportune.

"Come here; I want to speak to you." Sanine entered Lida's little room where, owing to the trees in front of the window, soft green twilight reigned. There was a feminine odour of perfume and powder. "How nice it is in here," said Sanine, with a sigh of relief. Lida stood facing the window, and green reflected lights from the garden flickered round her cheeks and shoulders.

"What do you want with me?" he asked kindly. Lida was silent, and she breathed heavily. "Why, what is the matter?" "Are you not going to fight a duel?" she asked hoarsely, without looking round. "No." Lida was silent. "Well, what of that?" said Sanine. Lida's chin trembled. She turned sharply round and murmured quickly: "I can't understand that, I can't..." "Oh!" exclaimed Sanine, frowning.

"Good evening, Vladimir Petrovitch," said the elder, handsomer and fairer of the two officers, rigid, erect as a spirited stallion, while his spurs clinked noisily. Sanine knew him to be Sarudine, a captain of cavalry, one of Lida's most persistent admirers. The other was Lieutenant Tanaroff, who regarded Sarudine as the ideal soldier, and strove to copy everything he did.

"It can't be helped! Victor Sergejevitsch apparently is not quite himself," he said in a mocking tone, proud of his conquest. So they took their leave; and, as Sarudine bent over Lida's hand, he whispered: "This is good-bye!" Never had he hated Lida as much as at this moment.

Then came the detection and prosecution, and the need of raising the fine. She had recourse to O'Leary, who had before been Schnetterling's underling, and now was a partner in Jellicoe's circus, who knew her capabilities as a manager and actress, and perceived the probabilities of poor little Lida's powers.

There are millions of your sort who make life into a prison, without sunshine or warmth! How often have you given rein to your lust in company with some harlot, the sharer of your sordid debauch? In Lida's case it was passion, the poetry of youth, and strength, and beauty. By what right, then, do you shrink from her, you that call yourself an intelligent, sensible man?

Lida's limbs are the same as before; so are her passion and her splendid vitality. But of course, it is extremely convenient and also agreeable to provide oneself with enjoyment while piously imagining that one is doing a noble deed. I should rather say it was!" At these words, Novikoff's self-pity gave place to a nobler sentiment. "You take me to be worse than I am," he said reproachfully.