“Yes, I am miserable, and it is all over,” thought she, as the frog disappeared in the long grass. “For me it was all so beautiful, so wonderful, and for him, well—just an ordinary, commonplace affair! That is why he always avoided speaking to me of his past life! That is why he always looked so strange, as if he were thinking of something; as if he were thinking ‘I know all about that; I know exactly what you feel and what the result of it will be.’ While all the time, I was…. Oh! it’s horrible! It’s shameful! I’ll never, never love anybody again!” And she wept again, her cheek pressed against the cool window-pane, as she watched the drifting clouds. “But Tolia is coming to lunch to-day!” The thought of it made her shiver. “What am I to say to him? What ought one to say in cases of this kind?” Lialia opened her mouth and stared anxiously at the wall. “I must ask Yourii about it. Dear Yourii! He’s so good and upright!” she thought, as tears of sympathy filled her eyes. Then, being never wont to postpone matters, she hastened to her brother’s room. There she found Schafroff who was discussing something with Yourii. She stood, irresolute, in the doorway. “Good morning,” she said absently. “Good morning!” replied Schafroff. “Pray come in, Ludmilla Nicolaijevna; your help is absolutely necessary in this matter.” Still somewhat embarrassed, Lialia sat down obediently at the table and began fingering in desultory fashion some of the green and red pamphlets which were heaped upon it. “You see, it’s like this,” began Schafroff, turning towards her as if he were about to explain something extremely complicated, “several of our comrades at Koursk are very hard up, and we must absolutely do what we can to help them. So I think of getting up a concert, eh, what?” This favourite expression of Schafroff’s, “eh, what?” reminded Lialia of her object in coming to her brother’s room, and she glanced hopefully at Yourii. “Why not? It’s a very good idea!” she replied, wondering why Yourii avoided her glance. After Lialia’s torrent of tears and the gloomy thoughts which had harassed him all night long, Yourii felt too depressed to speak to his sister. He had expected that she would come to him for advice, yet to give this in a satisfactory way seemed impossible. So, too, it was impossible to take back what he had said in order to comfort Lialia, and thrust her back into Riasantzeff’s arms; nor had he the heart to give the death-blow to her childish happiness. “Well, this is what we have decided to do,” continued Schafroff, moving nearer to Lialia, as if the matter were becoming much more complex, “we mean to ask Lida Sanina and Sina Karsavina to sing. Each a solo, first of all, and afterwards a duet. One is a contralto, and the other, a soprano, so that will do nicely. Then I shall play the violin, and afterwards Sarudine might sing, accompanied by Tanaroff.”