“Yes, he’s in the right, and—” exclaimed Sina, who had not heard all that Yourii had said. Her bosom heaved with excitement.
“But I call it horrible!” cried Yourii, hastily interrupting her, as he glanced at her shapely form and eager face.
“Why is it so?” asked Sina in a timid voice. She blushed suddenly, and her eyes lost their brightness.
“Anyone else would have felt remorse, or have suffered some kind of spiritual anguish,” said Yourii. “But he showed not the slightest sign of it. ‘I’m very sorry,’ says he, ‘but it’s not my fault.’ Fault, indeed! As if the question were one of fault or of blame!”
“Then of what is it?” asked Sina. Her voice faltered, and she looked downwards, fearing to offend her companion.
“That I don’t know; but a man has no right to behave like a brute,” was the indignant rejoinder.
For some time they walked along without speaking. Sina was grieved at what seemed their momentary estrangement, at this breaking of their spiritual bond which to her was so sweet, while Yourii felt that he had not expressed himself clearly, and this wounded his self-respect.
Soon afterwards they parted, she being sad and somewhat hurt. Yourii noticed her dejection, and was morbidly pleased thereat, as if he had revenged himself on some one he loved for a gross personal insult.
At home his ill-humour was increased. During dinner Lialia repeated what Riasantzeff had told her about Soloveitchik. As the men were removing the corpse, several urchins had called out:
“Ikey’s hanged himself! Ikey’s hanged himself!”