“Oh! women, women!”
Lida looked at him in horror. A pitiless light seemed to flash across her mind. In one instant she realized that she was lost. What she had given that was noble and pure, she had given to a man that did not exist. Her fair young life, her purity, her pride, had all been flung at the feet of a base, cowardly brute who instead of being grateful to her had merely soiled her by acts of coarse lubricity. For a moment she felt ready to wring her hands and fall to the ground in an agony of despair, but lightning-swift her mood changed to one of revenge and bitter hatred.
“Can’t you really see how intensely stupid you are?” she hissed through her clenched teeth, as she looked straight into his eyes.
The insolent words and the look of hatred were so unsuited to Lida, gracious, feminine Lida, that Sarudine instinctively recoiled. He had not quite understood their import, and sought to pass them by with a jest.
“What words to use!” he said, surprised and annoyed.
“I’m not in a mood to choose my words,” replied Lida bitterly, as she wrung her hands. Sarudine frowned.
“Why all these tragic airs?” he asked. Unconsciously allured by their beauty of outline, he glanced at her soft shoulders and exquisitely moulded arms. Her gesture of helplessness and despair made him feel sure of his superiority. It was as if they were being weighed in scales, one sinking when the other rose. Sarudine felt a cruel pleasure in knowing that this girl whom instinctively he had considered superior to himself was now made to suffer through him. In the first stage of their intimacy he had feared her. Now she had been brought to shame and dishonour; at which he was glad.
He grew softer. Gently he took her strengthless hands in his, and drew her closer to him. His senses were roused; his breath came quicker.
“Never mind! It’ll be all right! There is nothing so dreadful about it, after all!”
“So you think, eh?” replied Lida scornfully. It was scorn that helped her to recover herself, and she gazed at him with strange intensity.