Lineta did not answer; but, taking Kopovski’s white-leather cigarette-case, which was lying on the table, began to draw it across her face gently.
He looked at that beautiful face with his wonderful eyes, beneath which she simply melted. Lineta had known for a long time what to think of him; his boundless stupidity had no longer any secret from her. Still the exquisiteness and incomparable beauty of that dullard brought her plebeian blood into some uncommon movement. Every hair in his beard had a certain marvellous and irresistible charm for her.
“Have you noticed that for a long time they are watching us, like I know not whom?” continued Kopovski.
But she, feigning not to hear, continued to draw the cigarette-case across her delicate face, and, bringing it nearer and nearer to her lips, said,—
“How soft this is; how pleasant to the touch!”
Kopovski took the cigarette-case; but he put it to his lips and began to kiss lightly the part which a while before had touched Lineta’s face. Then a moment of silence rose between them.
“We must go from here,” said Lineta.
And, taking the pot of orchids, she wished to put it on steps in the conservatory; she was not able to do so, however, because of the slope of those steps.
“Permit me,” said Kopovski.
“No, no!” answered Lineta; “it would fall, and be broken; I will put it on the other side.”