When the house behind them had disappeared from view and the silent, motionless trees, like thoughtful witnesses, surrounded them, Sanine suddenly put his arm round Lida’s waist and said in a strange tone, half fierce, half tender:
“You’ve become quite a beauty! The first man you love will be a happy fellow.”
The touch of his arm with its muscles like iron sent a fiery thrill through Lida’s soft, supple frame. Bashful and trembling, she drew away from him as if at the approach of some unseen beast of prey.
They had now reached the river’s edge. There was a moist, damp odour from the reeds that swayed pensively in the stream. On the other side, fields lay dim in twilight beneath the vast sky where shone the first pale stars.
Stepping aside, Sanine seized a withered branch, broke it in two, and flung the pieces into the stream where swiftly circles appeared on its surface and swiftly vanished. As if to hail Sanine as their comrade, the reeds bent their heads.
It was about six o’clock. The sun still shone brightly, but in the garden there were already faint green shadows. The air was full of light and warmth and peace. Maria Ivanovna was making jam, and under the green linden-tree there was a strong smell of boiling sugar and raspberries. Sanine had been busy at the flower-beds all the morning, trying to revive some of the flowers that suffered most from the dust and heat.
“You had better pull up the weeds first,” suggested his mother, as from time to time she watched him through the blue, quivering stream. “Tell Grounjka, and she’ll do it for you.”
Sanine looked up, hot and smiling. “Why?” said he, as he tossed back his hair that clung to his brow. “Let them grow as much as they like. I am fond of everything green.”
“You’re a funny fellow!” said his mother, as she shrugged her shoulders, good-humouredly. For some reason or other, his answer had pleased her.
“It is you yourselves that are funny,” said Sanine, in a tone of conviction. He then went into the house to wash his hands, and, coming back, sat down at his ease in a wicker arm-chair near the table. He felt happy, and in a good temper. The verdure, the sunlight and the blue sky filled him with a keener sense of the joy of life. Large towns with their bustle and din were to him detestable. Around him were sunlight and freedom; the future gave him no anxiety; for he was disposed to accept from life whatever it could offer him. Sanine shut his eyes tight, and stretched himself; the tension of his sound, strong muscles gave him pleasurable thrills.