“Well, as regards vice there will always be plenty of that,” observed Ivanoff, and although no one thought such a remark either witty or wise, it provoked hearty laughter.
As they were having tea, it was the sunset hour. The river gleamed like gold, and through the trees fell slanting rays of warm red light.
“Now for the boat!” cried Lida, as, holding up her skirts, she ran down to the river-bank. “Who’ll get there first?”
Some ran after her, while others followed at a more leisurely pace, and amid much laughter they all got into a large painted boat.
“Let her go!” cried Lida, in a merry voice of command. The boat slid away from the shore leaving behind it two broad stripes on the water that disappeared in ripples at the river’s edge.
“Yourii Nicolaijevitch, why are you so silent?” asked Lida.
Yourii smiled. “I’ve got nothing to say.”
“Impossible!” she answered, with a pretty pout, throwing back her head as if she knew that all men thought her irresistible.
“Yourii doesn’t like talking nonsense,” said Semenoff. “He requires….”
“A serious subject, is that it?” exclaimed Lida, interrupting.