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Updated: June 26, 2025
Sarudine smiled uneasily, as he accompanied his visitor to the door, and with a parting stare the latter in his immaculate shoes hurried off. "Now, sirs," said Sarudine, on his return, "how's the game going? Take the bank for me, will you, Tanaroff? I shall be back directly." He spoke hastily; his eyes were restless. "That's a lie!" growled the drunken, bestial Malinowsky.
"Well, do you know, Lidia Petrovna ..." stammered Sarudine. At the sound of his voice, Lida's face assumed a plaintive, helpless expression, and as she glanced swiftly at him there was great grief at her heart not unmixed with tenderness and hope.
He went to the window and mechanically took out a cigarette, but uncertain if, while Sarudine lay there, he ought to smoke, he hurriedly thrust his cigarette-case into his pocket. "Shall I fetch the doctor?" asked the orderly, standing at attention, and unabashed by the rude answer that he had received. Tanaroff stretched out his fingers irresolutely.
Then she rushed out of the room, tearing the lace trimming of her sleeve which caught on the bolt of the door. Sarudine flushed to the roots of his hair. Had she called him "wretch," or "villain," he could have borne that calmly, but "brute" was such a coarse word so absolutely opposed to his conception of his own engaging personality, that it utterly stunned him.
Sarudine thought of Lida's beauty, and he shrank from discussing it with Volochine. However, after a pause, he observed with much affectation: "Every one to his taste. What I like most in a woman; is the back; that sinuous line, don't you know...." "Yes," drawled Volochine nervously. "Some women, especially very young ones, have got ..."
Then suddenly it all seemed quite clear and simple. "Perhaps she'll drown herself? Let her go to the deuce! I didn't force her to do it! They'll say that she was my mistress well, what of that? It only proves that I am a good- looking fellow. I never said that I would marry her. Upon my word, it's too silly!" Sarudine shrugged his shoulders, yet the sense of oppression was not lessened.
Everything about Sarudine, his smile, his white teeth, his good looks, his voice, were for Novikoff, all so many daggers thrust into an open wound. "Sarudine," said a tall lean officer with exceptionally long, unwieldy arms, "I've brought you a book." Above the general clamour Novikoff instantly caught the name, Sarudine, and the sound of his voice, as well, all other voices seeming mute.
One, two, three! One, two " His brain seemed on fire, his mouth grew parched, his heart beat so violently that his knees shook. "Don't stamp like that!" exclaimed Lida, opening her eyes. "One can't hear anything." Only then was Novikoff aware that Sarudine was singing. The young officer had chosen that old romance, I loved you once! Can you forget? Love in my heart is burning yet.
With all that was in him, he longed to hit Sarudine full in the face, that pretty self-satisfied-looking face, to fling him to the ground, and kick him, in a blind fury of passion. But the words that he wanted would not come; he knew, and it tortured him the more to know, that he was saying the wrong thing, as with a sneer, he replied. "It is enough to look at you, to know that."
The visitor was tall and thin, and wore a loosely-fitting white suit, and an extremely high collar. He stood on the threshold amazed, endeavouring to recognize Sarudine. "Hallo! Pavel Lvovitsch! What brings you here?" cried Sarudine, as, crimson with annoyance, he advanced to greet him.
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