moment must never be lost. "Well?" asked Lida mechanically, as she
looked at the garden and the moon above it and the dark boughs that
stood out sharply against its silver disc.

"I have long waited--that is--I have been anxious to say something to
you," Novikoff stammered out.

Sanine turned his head round to listen.

"What about?" asked Lida, absently.

Sarudine had finished his song and after a pause began to sing again.
He thought that he had a voice of extraordinary beauty, and he much
liked to hear it.

Novikoff felt himself growing red, and then pale. It was as if he were
going to faint.

"I--look here--Lidia Petrovna--will you be my wife?"

As he stammered out these words he felt all the while that he ought to
have said something very different and that his own emotions should
have been different also. Before he had got the words out he was
certain that the answer would be "no"; and at the same time he had an
impression that something utterly silly and ridiculous was about to
occur.

Lida asked mechanically, "Whose wife?" Then suddenly, she blushed
deeply, and rose, as if intending to speak. But she said nothing and
turned aside in confusion. The moonlight fell full on her features.