Lialia wept in her room for such a long while that at last, her face
buried in the pillows, she fell asleep. She woke next morning with
aching head and swollen eyes, her first thought being that she must not
cry, as Riasantzeff, who was coming to lunch, would be shocked to see
her looking so plain. Then, suddenly, she recollected that all was over
between them, and a sense of bitter pain and burning love caused her to
weep afresh.

"How base, how horrible!" she murmured, striving to keep back her
tears. "And why? Why?" she repeated, as infinite grief for love that
was lost seemed to overwhelm her. It was revolting to think that
Riasantzeff had always lied to her in such a facile, heartless way.
"And not only he, but all the others lied, too," she thought. "They all
of them professed to be so delighted at our marriage, and said that he
was such a good, honest fellow! Well, no, they didn't actually lie
about it, but they simply didn't think it was wrong. How hateful of
them!"

Thus all those who surrounded her seemed odious, evil persons. She
leant her forehead against the window-pane and through her tears, gazed
at the garden. It was gloomy, there; and large raindrops beat
incessantly against the panes, so that Lialia could not tell if it were
these or her tears which hid the garden from her view. The trees looked
sad and forlorn, their pale, dripping leaves and black boughs faintly
discernible amid the general downpour that converted the lawn into a
muddy swamp.