"Why?" said Liudmilla passionately, "because I love beauty. Because I am a pagan, a sinner. I ought to have been born in ancient Athens. I love flowers, perfumes, brightly coloured clothes, the naked body. They say there is a soul. I don't know, I've never seen it. And what is it to me? Let me die altogether like an Undine, let me melt away like a cloud under the sun. I love the body, the strong, agile, naked body, which is capable of enjoyment." "Yes, but it can suffer also," said Sasha quietly. "And to suffer is also good," whispered Liudmilla. "There is sweetness in pain--if only to feel the body, to see its nakedness and bodily beauty." "But it is shameful to be without clothes," said Sasha timidly. Liudmilla impetuously threw herself on her knees before him. She kissed his hands and whispered breathlessly: "My dear, my idol, divine boy, just for a moment, only for a moment, let me see your beautiful shoulders." Sasha sighed, looked down, flushed and took off his blouse awkwardly. Liudmilla caught him with her warm hands and covered his shoulders, which trembled with shame, with kisses. "Do you see how obedient I am?" said Sasha with a forced smile, trying to get rid of his embarrassment with a jest. Liudmilla quickly kissed his arms from the shoulders to the fingers, and Sasha, immersed in passionate, grave thoughts, did not take them away. Liudmilla's kisses were warm with adoration--and it was as if her lips were kissing not a boy but a boy-god in a mysterious worship of the blossoming Body. Darya and Valeria were standing behind the door, looking through the keyhole in turns, jostling each other with impatience, and their hearts were sick with a passionate, burning agitation. * * * * * "It's time to dress," said Sasha at last. Liudmilla sighed, and with the same reverent expression helped him on with his clothes. "So you're a pagan?" asked Sasha. Liudmilla laughed. "And you?" she asked. "What a question?" said Sasha with assurance. "I've learned the whole catechism." Liudmilla laughed loudly. Sasha looked at her smiling and asked: "If you're a pagan, why do you go to church?" Liudmilla ceased laughing and reflected. "Well," she said, "one has to pray. One has to pray, to weep, to burn a candle, and do something for the dead. And I love it all, the candles, the image-lamps, the incense, the vestments, the singing--if the singers are good--the ikons, with their trimmings and ribbons. Yes, all that is beautiful. And I also love Him ... you know ... the Crucified One...." Liudmilla pronounced the last words very quietly, almost in a whisper, blushed like a guilty person and cast down her eyes. "Do you know I sometimes dream of Him on the cross, and there are drops of blood on His body." * * * * *