Lida had now to force herself to go farther, striving to overcome a
mighty power within which held her back. "It must be! It must! It
must!" she repeated, as, dragging herself along, her feet seemed to
break their bonds at every step which took her farther from the bridge
and nearer to the place at which unconsciously she had determined to
stop.
On reaching it, when she saw the black, cold water underneath over-
arching boughs, and the current swirling past a corner of the steep
bank, then she realized for the first time how much she longed to live,
and how awful it was to die. Yet die she must, for to live on was
impossible. Without looking round, she flung down her other glove and
her parasol, and, leaving the path, walked through the tall grasses to
the water. In that moment a thousand thoughts passed through her brain.
Deep in her soul, where long it had lain dormant, her childish faith
awoke, as with simple fervour she repeated this short prayer, "Lord,
save me! Lord, help me!" She suddenly recollected the refrain of a
song that latterly she had been studying; for an instant she thought of
Sarudine, and then she saw the face of her mother who seemed doubly
dear to her in this awful moment. Indeed it was this last recollection
which drove her faster to the river. Never till then had Lida so keenly
realized that her mother and all those who loved her, did not love her
for what she really was, with all her defects and desires, but only for
that which they wished her to be. Now that she had strayed from the
path that according to them was the only right one, these persons, and
especially her mother, having loved her much, would now prove
proportionately severe.
Then, as in a delirious dream, all became confused; fear, the longing
to live, the sense of the inevitable, unbelief, the conviction that all
was at an end, hope, despair, the horrible consciousness that this was
the spot where she must die, and then the vision of a man strangely
like her brother who leapt over a hedge and rushed towards her.
"You could not have thought of anything sillier!" cried Sanine,
breathless.
By a strange coincidence it so happened that Lida had reached the very
spot adjoining Sarudine's garden where first she had surrendered to
him, a place, screened by dark trees from the light of the moon. Sanine
had seen her in the distance, and had guessed her intention. At first
he was for letting her have her way, but her wild, convulsive movements
aroused his pity, and vaulting the garden-seats and the bushes he
hastened to her rescue.