Maria Ivanovna wondered what this insolent little roué could have
heard about her own pure Lida, her darling child, and again she had a
terrible presentiment of the latter's downfall. It utterly unnerved
her, and for the moment her eyes had a softer, more human expression.
"If they are not turned out of the house," thought Sanine, at this
juncture, "they will only cause further distress to Lida and Novikoff."
"I hear that you are going away?" he suddenly said, looking pensively
at the floor.
Sarudine wondered that so simple an expedient had occurred to him
before. "That's it! A good idea. Two months' leave!" he thought, before
hastily replying.
"Yes, I was thinking of doing so. One wants a change you know. By
stopping too long in one place, you are apt to get rusty."
Sanine laughed outright. The whole conversation, not one word of which
expressed their real thoughts and feelings, all this deceit, which
deceived nobody, amused him immensely; and with a sudden sense of
gaiety and freedom he got up, and said: "Well, I should think that the sooner you went, the better!"
In a moment as if from each a stiff, heavy garb had fallen off, the
other three persons became changed. Maria Ivanovna looked pale and
shrunken, Volochine's eyes expressed animal fear, and Sarudine slowly
and irresolutely rose.
"What do you mean?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
Volochine tittered, and looked about nervously for his hat.
Sanine did not reply to the question, but maliciously handed Volochine
the hat. From the latter's open mouth a stifled sound escaped like a
plaintive squeak.
"What do you mean by that?" cried Sarudine angrily, aware that he was
losing his temper. "A scandal!" he thought to himself.
"I mean what I say," replied Sanine. "Your presence here is utterly
unnecessary, and we shall all be delighted to see the last of you."
Sarudine took a step forward. He looked extremely uncomfortable, and
his white teeth gleamed threateningly, like those of a wild beast.
"Aha! That's it, is it?" he muttered, breathing hard.
"Get out!" said Sanine contemptuously, yet in so terrible a tone that
Sarudine glared, and voluntarily drew back.
"I don't know what the deuce it all means!" said Volochine, under his
breath, as with shoulders raised he hurried to the door.
But there, in the door-way, stood Lida. She was dressed in a style
quite different from her usual one. Instead of a fashionable coiffure,
she wore her hair in a thick plait hanging down her back. Instead of an
elegant costume she was wearing a loose gown of diaphanous texture, the
simplicity of which alluringly heightened the beauty of her form.