Tanaroff, still smarting, made no reply.
Sarudine, however, did not notice this, and slowly crossed the room, his eyes laughing as if at some secret recollection. His strong, healthy organism, enervated by the heat, was the more sensible to the influence of exciting thought. Suddenly he laughed, a short laugh; it was as if he had neighed. Then he stopped.
“You know yesterday I tried to …” (here he used a coarse, and in reference to a woman, a most humiliating, expression) “She jibbed a bit, at first; that wicked look in her eyes; you know the sort of thing!”
His animal instincts roused in their turn, Tanaroff grinned lecherously.
“But afterwards, it was all right; never had such a time in my life!” said Sarudine, and he shivered at the recollection.
“Lucky chap!” exclaimed Tanaroff, enviously.
“Is Sarudine at home?” cried a loud voice from the street. “May we come in?” It was Ivanoff.
Sarudine started, fearful lest his words about Lida Sanina should have been heard by some one else. But Ivanoff had hailed him from the roadway, and was not even visible.
“Yes, yes, he’s at home!” cried Sarudine from the window.
In the ante-room there was a noise of laughter and clattering of feet, as if the house were being invaded by a merry crowd. Then Ivanoff, Novikoff, Captain Malinowsky, two other officers, and Sanine all appeared.