He seemed to see before him Lida's handsome, inscrutable eyes, and her
lips tightly compressed, vindictive, menacing.

"She may be going to pay me out? A girl of that sort isn't one to be
trifled with. At all costs I shall have to ..."

The prospect of a huge scandal vaguely suggested itself, striking
terror to his craven heart.

"After all," he thought, "what could she possibly do?" Then suddenly it
all seemed quite clear and simple. "Perhaps she'll drown herself? Let
her go to the deuce! I didn't force her to do it! They'll say that she
was my mistress--well, what of that? It only proves that I am a good-
looking fellow. I never said that I would marry her. Upon my word, it's
too silly!" Sarudine shrugged his shoulders, yet the sense of
oppression was not lessened. "People will talk, I expect, and I shan't
be able to show myself," he thought, while his hand trembled slightly
as he held the glass of cold, over-sweetened tea to his lips.

He was as smart and well-groomed and scented as ever, yet it seemed as
if, on his face, his white jacket, and his hands, and even on his
heart, there was a foul stain which became even greater.

"Bah! After a while it will all blow over. And it's not the first time,
either!" Thus he sought to soothe his conscience, but an inward voice
refused to accept such consolation.