blossom stood the green table on which in summer-time tea or lunch was
set. This little corner, touched by the breath of simple peaceful life,
was in sharp contrast to the huge, deserted mansion, doomed to
inevitable decay.

When the house behind them had disappeared from view and the silent,
motionless trees, like thoughtful witnesses, surrounded them, Sanine
suddenly put his arm round Lida's waist and said in a strange tone,
half fierce, half tender:

"You've become quite a beauty! The first man you love will be a happy
fellow."

The touch of his arm with its muscles like iron sent a fiery thrill
through Lida's soft, supple frame. Bashful and trembling, she drew away
from him as if at the approach of some unseen beast of prey.

They had now reached the river's edge. There was a moist, damp odour
from the reeds that swayed pensively in the stream. On the other side,
fields lay dim in twilight beneath the vast sky where shone the first
pale stars.

Stepping aside, Sanine seized a withered branch, broke it in two, and
flung the pieces into the stream where swiftly circles appeared on its
surface and swiftly vanished. As if to hail Sanine as their comrade,
the reeds bent their heads.