For a moment he peered into the darkness, and his brow grew cold. Between the dread mystery of night and the soul of this stalwart man a conflict, brief yet terrible, was in progress.
The town was asleep; the glimmering roadways lay bare and white beneath the sombre trees; the windows were like dull, watchful eyes glaring at the gloom. Sanine tossed his head and smiled, as he looked calmly in front of him.
“I am not guilty,” he said aloud. “One more or less—”
Erect and resolute, he strode onward, an imposing spectre in the silent night.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
The news that two persons had committed suicide on the same night spread rapidly through the little town. It was Ivanoff who told Yourii. The latter had just come back from a lesson, and was at work upon a portrait of Lialia. She posed for him in a light-coloured blouse, open at the neck, and her pretty shell-pink arms showed through the semi- transparent stuff. The room was filled with sunlight which lit up her golden hair, and heightened the charm of her girlish grace.
“Good day,” said Ivanoff, as, entering, he flung his hat on to a chair.
“Ah! it’s you. Well, what’s the news?” asked Yourii, smiling.
He was in a contented, happy mood, for at last he had got some teaching which made him less dependent upon his father, and the society of his bright, charming sister served to cheer him, also.
“Oh! lots of news,” said Ivanoff, with a vague look in his eyes. “One man has hanged himself, and another has blown his brains out, and the devil’s got hold of a third.”