To Yourii it was strange that his merry, laughing sister should have
become so quiet and pensive. Depressed and irritable himself,
everything, Lialia, the dark garden the distant starlit sky seemed to
him sad and cold. He did not perceive that this dreamy mood concealed
not sorrow, but the very essence and fulness of life. In the wide
heaven surged forces immeasurable and unknown; the dim garden drew
forth vital sap from the earth; and in Lialia's heart there was a joy
so full, so complete, that she feared lest any movement, any impression
should break the spell. Radiant as the starry heaven, mysterious as the
dark garden, harmonies of love and yearning vibrated within her soul.

"Tell me, Lialia, do you love Anatole Pavlovitch very much?" asked
Yourii, gently, as if he feared to rouse her.

"How can you ask?" she thought, but, recollecting herself, she nestled
closer to her brother, grateful to him for not speaking of anything
else but of her life's one interest--the man she adored.

"Yes, very much," she replied, so softly that Yourii guessed rather
than heard what she said, striving to restrain her tears of joy. Yet
Yourii thought that he could detect a certain note of sadness in her
voice, and his pity for her, as his hatred of Riasantzeff, increased.

"Why?" he asked, feeling amazed at such a question.

Lialia looked up in astonishment, and laughed gently.