But she grew ill at ease and was silent.
Under the stimulating influence of the calm, sultry, unfathomable night, her thoughts again reverted to her recent experiences. It seemed to her impossible that Sanine should not know of these, and it was just this which made her joy the more intense. Unconsciously she longed to make him aware that she was not always so gentle and modest, but that she could also be something vastly different when she threw off the mask. It was this secret longing that made her flushed and elated.
“You have known Yourii Nicolaijevitsch for a long while, haven’t you?” she asked in a faltering voice, irresistibly impelled to hover above an abyss.
“No,” replied Sanine. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh! I merely asked. He’s a clever fellow, don’t you think?”
Her tone was one of childish timidity, as if she sought to obtain something from a person far older than herself, who had the right to caress or to punish her.
Sanine smiled at her, as he said;
“Ye … es!”
From his voice Sina knew that he was smiling, and she blushed deeply.
“No … but, really he is…. Well, he seems to be very unhappy.” Her lip quivered.