"Tell me, I beg you. You have just said yourself that you do not love your husband. Why, then, do you live together?" She arose with a rapid movement, sat up, and began nervously to pass her hands over her forehead and cheeks, as if she had awakened from a dream. "It's late; let us go. Perhaps they are even now looking for us," she answered in a calm and completely altered voice. They got up from the grass, and both stood for a while silent, listening to each other's breathings, eye to eye, but with lowered gaze. "Good-bye," she suddenly cried in a silvery voice. "Good-bye, my bliss--my brief bliss." She twined her arms round his neck and pressed her moist, burning-hot lips to his mouth. With clenched teeth and a sigh of intense passion she pressed her body to his. To Romashov's eyes the black trunks of the oaks seemed to reel and softly bend towards the ground, where the objects ran into each other and disappeared before his eyes. Time stood still.... By a violent jerk she released herself from his arms, and said in a firm voice: "Farewell--enough. Let us go." Romashov without a sound sank down on the grass at her feet, embracing her knees, and pressing his lips against her dress in long, hot kisses. "Sascha--Saschenka," he whispered, having now lost all self-command, "have pity on me." "Get up, Georgi Alexandrovich! Come--they might take us unawares. Let us return to the others." They proceeded on their way in the direction from which they heard the sound of voices. Romashov's temples throbbed, his knees gave way, and he stumbled like a drunken man. "No, I will not," Shurochka answered at last in a fevered, panting voice. "I will not betray him. Besides, it would be something even worse than betrayal--it would be cowardice. Cowardice enters into every betrayal. I'll tell you the whole truth. I have never deceived my husband, and I shall remain faithful to him until the very moment when I shall release myself from him--for ever. His kisses and caresses are disgusting to me, and listen, now--no, even before--when I thought of you and your kisses, I understood what ineffable bliss it would be to surrender myself wholly to the man I love. But to steal such a joy--never. I hate deceit and treacherous ways." They were approaching the spot where the picnic had taken place, and the flames from the pyre shone from between the trees, the coarse, bark-covered trunks of which were sharply outlined against the fire, and looked as if they were molten in some black metal. "Well," resumed Romashov, "if I shake off my sluggishness, if I succeed in attaining the same goal as that for which your husband is striving, or perhaps even something still higher--would you then ...?" She pressed her cheek hard against his shoulder, and answered impetuously and passionately-- "Yes, then, then!" They gained the open. All the vast, burning pyre was visible; around it a crowd of small, dark figures were moving.