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Chapter XXXIV
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That evening he walked for a long while with Sina Karsavina; yet her beautiful eyes and gentle caressing manner did not enable him to shake off his depression.
"How awful it is to think," he said, his eyes fixed on the ground, "to think that Sarudine no longer exists. A handsome, merry, careless young officer like that! One would have thought that he would live for ever, and that the horrible things of life, such as pain and doubt and suffering, were unknown to him, would never touch him. Yet one fine day this very man is swept away like dust, after passing through a terrible ordeal known to none but himself. Now he's gone, and will never, never return. All that's left of him is the cap on the coffin-lid."
Yourii was silent, and he still gazed at the ground. Swaying slightly as she walked beside him, Sina listened attentively, while with her pretty, dimpled hands she kept twisting the lace of her parasol. She was not thinking about Sarudine. It was a keen pleasure for her to be near Yourii, yet unconsciously she shared his melancholy mood, and her face assumed a mournful expression. "Yes! wasn't it sad? That music, too!"
"I don't blame Sanine," said Yourii with emphasis.
"He could not have acted otherwise. The horrible part of it all is that the paths of these two men crossed, so that one or the other was obliged to give way. It is also horrible that the victor does not realize that his triumph is an appalling one. He calmly sweeps a man off the face of the earth, and yet is in the right."
"Yes, he's in the right, and--" exclaimed Sina, who had not heard all that Yourii had said. Her bosom heaved with excitement.
"But I call it horrible!" cried Yourii, hastily interrupting her, as he glanced at her shapely form and eager face.
"Why is it so?" asked Sina in a timid voice. She blushed suddenly, and her eyes lost their brightness.
"Anyone else would have felt remorse, or have suffered some kind of spiritual anguish," said Yourii. "But he showed not the slightest sign of it. 'I'm very sorry,' says he, 'but it's not my fault.' Fault, indeed! As if the question were one of fault or of blame!"
"Then of what is it?" asked Sina. Her voice faltered, and she looked downwards, fearing to offend her companion.
"That I don't know; but a man has no right to behave like a brute," was the indignant rejoinder.
For some time they walked along without speaking. Sina was grieved at what
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