“I’ll love if I will; if I don’t, then I won’t!” sang Lida softly to herself, thinking meanwhile that her voice was a much better one than Sina Karsavina’s. “Oh! it’s all nonsense! If I like, I’ll give myself to the devil!” Thus she made sudden answer to her thoughts, holding her bare arms above her head so that her bosom shook. “Aren’t you asleep yet, Lida?” said Sanine’s voice outside the window. Lida started back in alarm, and then, with a smile, flung a shawl round her shoulders as she approached the window. “What a fright you gave me!” she said. Sanine came nearer and leant with both elbows on the window-sill. His eyes shone, and he smiled. “There was no need for that!” he muttered playfully. Lida looked round. “Without a shawl you looked much nicer,” he said in a low voice, impressively. Lida looked at him in amazement, and instinctively drew the shawl tighter round her. Sanine laughed. In confusion, she also leant upon the window-sill, and now she felt his breath on her cheek. “What a beauty you are!” he said. Lida glanced swiftly at him, fearful of what she thought she could read in his face. With her whole body she felt that her brother’s eyes were fixed upon her, and she turned away in horror. It was so terrible, so loathsome, that her heart seemed frozen. Every man looked at her just like that, and she liked it, but for her brother to do so was incredible, impossible. Recovering herself, she said, smiling: “Yes, I know.” Sanine calmly watched her. The shawl and her chemise had slipped when she leant on the window-sill, and partly disclosed her tender bosom, white in the moonlight. “Men always build up a Wall of China between themselves and happiness,” he said in a low, trembling voice. Lida was terrified. “How do you mean?” she asked faintly, her eyes still fixed on the garden for fear of encountering his. To her it seemed that something was going to happen of which one hardly dared to think. Yet she had no doubt as to what it was. It was awful, hideous, and yet interesting. Her brain was on fire; she could scarcely see, as with horror and yet with curiosity she felt hot breath against her cheek that stirred her hair and sent shivers through her frame. “Why, like this!” replied Sanine, and his voice faltered. As if by an electric shock, Lida started backwards and, without knowing what she did, leant over the table and blew out the light. “It is bed-time,” she said, and shut the window. The light having been extinguished, it seemed less dark out of doors, and Sanine’s figure was clearly discernible, his features appearing blueish in the moonlight. He stood in the long, dew-drenched grass and smiled. Lida left the window and sat down mechanically on her bed. She trembled in every limb, unable to collect her thoughts, and the sound of Sanine’s footsteps on the grass outside set her heart beating violently.