He put his arms around her and kissed her in the darkness, somewhere just below her ear. His hat fell off on to the ground, but he did not stop to pick it up. He kissed the girl’s cool cheek, and whispered as in a dream:
“Lenotchka, I love you, I love you....”
“No, no,” said she in a whisper, and hearing the whisper he sought her lips. “No, no, let me go; let me....”
Dear lips of hers, half childish, simple, innocent lips. When he kissed her she made no opposition, yet she did not return his kisses; she breathed in a touching manner, quickly, deeply, submissively. Down his cheeks there flowed cool tears, tears of rapture. And when he drew his lips away from hers and looked up into the sky, the stars shining through the lime branches seemed to dance and come towards one another, to meet and swim together in silvery clusters, seen through his flowing tears.
“Lenotchka, I love you....”
“Let me go....”
“Lenotchka!”
But suddenly she cried out angrily: “Let me go, you nasty, horrid boy. You’ll see, I’ll tell mother everything; I’ll tell her all about it. Indeed, I will.”
She didn’t say anything to her mother, but after that night she never allowed Voznitsin to be alone with her. And then the summer-time came....