Sarudine smiled uneasily, as he accompanied his visitor to the door, and with a parting stare the latter in his immaculate shoes hurried off. “Now, sirs,” said Sarudine, on his return, “how’s the game going? Take the bank for me, will you, Tanaroff? I shall be back directly.” He spoke hastily; his eyes were restless. “That’s a lie!” growled the drunken, bestial Malinowsky. “We mean to have a good look at that young lady of yours.” Tanaroff seized him by the shoulders and forced him back into his chair. The others hurriedly resumed their places at the card-table, not looking at Sarudine. Sanine also sat down, but there was a certain seriousness in his smile. He had guessed that it was Lida who had come, and a vague sense of jealousy and pity was roused within him for his handsome sister, now obviously in great distress. CHAPTER XVII. Sideways, on Sarudine’s bed, sat Lida, in despair, convulsively twisting her handkerchief. As he came in he was struck by her altered appearance. Of the proud, high-spirited girl there was not a trace. He now saw before him a dejected woman, broken by grief, with sunken cheeks and lifeless eyes. These dark eyes instantly met his, and then as swiftly shunned his gaze. Instinctively he knew that Lida feared him, and a feeling of intense irritation suddenly arose within him. Closing the door with a bang, he walked straight up to her. “You really are a most extraordinary person,” he began, with difficulty checking his fierce wish to strike her. “Here am I, with a room full of people; your brother’s there, too! Couldn’t you have chosen some other time to come? Upon my word, it is too provoking!” From the dark eyes there shot such a strange flash that Sarudine quailed. His tone changed. He smiled, showing his white teeth, and taking Lida’s hand, sat down beside her on the bed. “Well, well, it doesn’t matter. I was only anxious on your account. I am ever so glad that you’ve come. I was longing to see you.” Sarudine raised her hot, perfumed little hand to his lips, and kissed it just above the glove. “Is that the truth?” asked Lida. The curious tone of her voice surprised him. Again she looked up at him, and her eyes said plainly, “Is it true that you love me? You see how wretched I am, now. Not like I was once. I am afraid of you, and I feel all the humiliation of my present state, but I have no one except you that can help me.” “How can you doubt it?” replied Sarudine. The words sounded insincere, almost cold.