She was musing on all that had just happened, and her experiences, if they had caused delight, had yet provoked shame. “Good heavens!” thought she, “am I really so depraved?” Then for the hundredth time she blissfully recalled the rapture that was hers as she first lay in Yourii’s arms. “My darling! My darling!” she murmured, and again Sanine watched her eyelids tremble, and her smiling lips. Of the subsequent scene, distressful in its unbridled passion, she preferred not to think, instinctively aware that the memory of it would only bring disenchantment.
There was a knock at the door.
“Who is there?” asked Sina, looking up. Sanine plainly saw her white, soft neck.
“Here’s a letter for you,” cried the boy outside.
Sina rose and opened the door. Splashed with wet mud to the knees, the boy entered, and snatching his cap from his head, said:
“The young lady sent me.”
“Sinotschka,” wrote Dubova, “if possible, do come back to town this evening. The Inspector of Schools has arrived, and will visit our school to-morrow morning. It won’t look well if you are not there.”
“What is it?” asked Sina’s old aunt.
“Olga has sent for me. The school-inspector has come,” replied Sina, pensively.
The boy rubbed one foot against another.