Liudmilla walked in front. She lifted her skirt. She showed her small shoes and flesh-coloured stockings. Sasha looked on the ground, so as not to stumble over roots, and saw the stockings. It seemed to him that she had put on shoes without stockings. He flushed. He felt giddy.
"If only I could fall suddenly before her," he thought, "snatch off her shoes, and kiss her delicate feet!"
Liudmilla instinctively felt Sasha's passionate glance, his impatient desire. She laughed and turned to him with a question:
"Are you looking at my stockings?"
"No, I—er——" mumbled Sasha in confusion.
"What dreadful stockings I've got on," said Liudmilla laughing and not listening to him. "It almost looks as if I had put my shoes on my bare feet—they're absolutely flesh-coloured. Don't you think they're dreadfully ridiculous stockings?"
She turned her face to Sasha and lifted the hem of her dress.
"Aren't they ridiculous?" she asked.
"No, they're beautiful," said Sasha, red with embarrassment.
Liudmilla pretended to be surprised, raised her eyebrows and exclaimed: