“Tell me, Yourii, has the thought of suicide never crossed your mind?”
“You are on the committee, aren’t you?” asked Sina eagerly.
“Yes,” replied Yourii curtly, as if unwilling to admit the fact, but in reality pleased to do so, because he thought that to this charming girl he would appear weirdly interesting. He then walked back with them to their house, and on the way they laughed and talked much. All depression had vanished.
“How nice he is!” said Sina, when Yourii had gone.
“Mind that you don’t fall in love with him.”
“What an idea!” laughed Sina, though secretly afraid.
Yourii reached home in a brighter, more hopeful mood. He went to look at the picture that he had begun. It produced no impression upon him, and he lay down contentedly to sleep. That night in dreams he had visions of fair women, radiant and alluring.
On the following evening Yourii went to the same spot where he had met Sina Karsavina and her companion. Throughout the day he had thought with pleasure of his talk with them on the previous evening, and he hoped to meet them again, discuss the same subjects, and perceive the same look of sympathy and tenderness in Sina’s gentle eyes.
It was a calm evening. The air was warm, and a slight dust floated above the streets. Except for one or two passers-by, the boulevard was absolutely deserted. Yourii walked slowly along, his eyes fixed on the ground.
“How boring!” he thought. “What am I to do?”
Suddenly Schafroff, the student, walking briskly, and, swinging his arm, approached him with a friendly smile on his face.
“Why are you dawdling along like this, eh?” he asked, stopping short, and giving Yourii a big, strong hand.
“Oh! I am bored to death, and there’s nothing to do. Where are you going?” asked Yourii, in a languid, patronizing tone. He always spoke thus to Schafroff, because, as a former member of the revolutionary committee he looked upon the lad as just an amateur revolutionist. Schafroff smiled as one thoroughly pleased with himself.
“We have got a lecture to-day,” he said, pointing to a packet of thin pamphlets in coloured wrappers. Yourii mechanically took one, and, opening it, read the long, dry preface to a popular Socialistic address, once well known to him, but which he had quite forgotten.