Crossing the yard, Sanine went indoors while Ivanoff waited in the dark garden, with its sombre shadows and its odour of decay. The leaves rustled under his feet as he approached Sanine’s bedroom-window. When Sanine passed through the drawing-room he heard voices on the veranda, and he stopped to listen.
“But what do you want of me?” he could hear Lida saying. Her peevish, languid tone surprised him.
“I want nothing,” replied Novikoff irritably, “only it seems strange that you should think you were sacrificing yourself for me, whereas—”
“Yes, yes, I know,” said Lida, struggling with her tears.
“It is not I, but it is you that are sacrificing yourself. Yes, it’s you! What more would you have?”
Novikoff was annoyed.
“How little you understand my meaning!” he said. “I love you, and thus it’s no sacrifice. But if you think that our union implies a sacrifice either on your part or on mine, how on earth are we going to live together? Do try and understand me. We can only live together on one condition, and that is, if neither of us imagines that there is any sacrifice about it. Either we love each other, and our union is a reasonable and natural one, or we don’t love each other, and then—”
Lida suddenly began to cry.
“What’s the matter?” exclaimed Novikoff, surprised and irritated. “I can’t make you out. I haven’t said anything that could offend you. Don’t cry like that! Really, one can’t say a single word!”
“I … don’t know,” sobbed Lida, “but …”