Novikoff and Semenoff went next, and Riasantzeff was a long while
saying good-bye to Lialia, pretending to talk about the picnic.

"Now, we must all go to bye-bye," said Lialia, laughingly, when he had
taken his leave. Then she sighed, being loth to leave the moonlight,
the soft night air, and all for which her youth and beauty longed.
Yourii remembered that his father had not yet retired to rest, and
feared that, if they met, a painful and useless discussion would be
inevitable.

"No!" he replied, his eyes fixed on the faint blue mist about the
river, "No! I don't want to go to sleep. I shall go out for a while."

"As you like," said Lialia, in her sweet, gentle voice. Stretching
herself, she half closed her eyes like a cat, smiled at the moonlight,
and went in. For a few minutes Yourii stood there, watching the dark
shadows of the houses and the trees; then he went in the same direction
that Semenoff had taken.

The latter had not gone far, walking slowly and stooping as he coughed.
His black shadow followed him along the moonlit road. Yourii soon
overtook him and at once noticed how changed he was. During supper
Semenoff had joked and laughed more perhaps than anyone else, but now
he walked along, gloomy and self-absorbed, and in his hollow cough
there was something hopeless and threatening like the disease from
which he suffered.

"Ah! it's you!" he said, somewhat peevishly, as Yourii thought.

"I wasn't sleepy. I'll walk back with you, if you like."