Liubka was sleeping on her back, with one bare arm stretched out along the body, and the other on her breast. Lichonin bent nearer, to her very face. She was breathing evenly and deeply. This breathing of her young, healthy body was, despite sleep, pure and almost aromatic. He cautiously ran his fingers over her bare arm and stroked her breast a little below the clavicle. “What am I doing?” his reason suddenly cried out within him in terror; but some one else answered for Lichonin: “But I’m not doing anything. I only want to ask if she’s sleeping comfortably, and whether she doesn’t want some tea.” But Liubka suddenly awoke, opened her eyes, blinked them for a moment and opened them again. She gave a long, long stretch, and with a kindly, not yet fully reasoning smile, encircled Lichonin’s neck with her warm, strong arm. “Sweetie! Darling!” caressingly uttered the woman in a crooning voice, somewhat hoarse from sleep. “Why, I was waiting for you and waiting, and even became angry. And after that I fell asleep and all night long saw you in my sleep. Come to me, my baby, my lil’ precious!” She drew him to her, breast against breast. Lichonin almost did not resist; he was all atremble, as from a chill, and meaninglessly repeating in a galloping whisper with chattering teeth: “No, now, Liuba, don’t ... Really, don’t do that, Liuba ... Ah, let’s drop this, Liuba ... Don’t torture me. I won’t vouch for myself ... Let me alone, now, Liuba, for God’s sake! ...” “My-y little silly!” she exclaimed in a laughing, joyous voice. “Come to me, my joy!”—and, overcoming the last, altogether insignificant opposition, she pressed his mouth to hers and kissed him hard and warmly—kissed him sincerely, perhaps for the first and last time in her life. “Oh, you scoundrel! What am I doing?” declaimed some honest, prudent, and false body in Lichonin. “Well, now? Are you eased up a bit?” asked Liubka kindly, kissing Lichonin’s lips for the last time. “Oh, you, my little student! ...” CHAPTER XII.