dress, and her pensive, smiling face. In the garden the shadows had
grown deeper; they were now sombre and profound as those of the forest.

Novikoff sighed, and then blurted out.

"I prefer you to the moon," thinking to himself, "that's an idiotic
remark!"

Lida burst out laughing.

"What a lumpish compliment!" she exclaimed.

"I don't know how to pay compliments," was Novikoff's sullen rejoinder.

"Very well, then, sit still and listen," said Lida, shrugging her
shoulders, pettishly.

_But you no longer care, I know,
Why should I grieve you with my woe_?


The tones of the piano rang out with silvery clearness through the
green, humid garden. The moonlight became more and more intense and the
shadows harder. Crossing the grass, Sanine sat down under a linden-tree
and was about to light a cigarette. Then he suddenly stopped and
remained motionless, as if spell-bound by the evening calm that the
sounds of the piano and of this youthfully sentimental voice in no way
disturbed, but rather served to make more complete.

"Lidia Petrovna!" cried Novikoff hurriedly, as if this particular