Liudmilla impetuously threw herself on her knees before him. She kissed his hands and whispered breathlessly:
"My dear, my idol, divine boy, just for a moment, only for a moment, let me see your beautiful shoulders."
Sasha sighed, looked down, flushed and took off his blouse awkwardly. Liudmilla caught him with her warm hands and covered his shoulders, which trembled with shame, with kisses.
"Do you see how obedient I am?" said Sasha with a forced smile, trying to get rid of his embarrassment with a jest.
Liudmilla quickly kissed his arms from the shoulders to the fingers, and Sasha, immersed in passionate, grave thoughts, did not take them away. Liudmilla's kisses were warm with adoration—and it was as if her lips were kissing not a boy but a boy-god in a mysterious worship of the blossoming Body.
Darya and Valeria were standing behind the door, looking through the keyhole in turns, jostling each other with impatience, and their hearts were sick with a passionate, burning agitation.
"It's time to dress," said Sasha at last.
Liudmilla sighed, and with the same reverent expression helped him on with his clothes.
"So you're a pagan?" asked Sasha.