o smile.

"Sonia, Sonitchka . . . my darling woman!" he muttered, preventing
her from speaking. "My dear! my sweet!"

In a rush of tenderness, with tears in his voice, he showered
caressing words upon her, that grew tenderer and tenderer, and even
called her "thou," as though she were his wife or mistress. Quite
unexpectedly he put one arm round her waist and with the other hand
took hold of her elbow.

"My precious! my delight!" he whispered, kissing the nape of her
neck; "be sincere; come to me at once!"

She slipped out of his arms and raised her head to give vent to her
indignation and anger, but the indignation did not come off, and
all her vaunted virtue and chastity was only sufficient to enable
her to utter the phrase used by all ordinary women on such occasions:

"You must be mad."

"Come, let us go," Ilyin continued. "I felt just now, as well as
at the seat in the wood, that you are as helpless as I am, Sonia
. . . . You are in the same plight! You love me and are fruitlessly
trying to appease your conscience. . . ."

Seeing that she was moving away, he caught her by her lace cuff and
said rapidly:

"If not today, then tomorrow you will have to give in! Why, then,
this waste of time? My precious, darling Sonia, the sentence is
passed; why put off the execution? Why deceive yourself?"

Sofya Petrovna tore herself from him and darted in at the door.
Returning to the drawing-room, she mechanically shut the piano,
looked for a long time at the music-stand, and sat down. She could
not stand up nor think. All that was left of her excitement and
recklessness was a fearful weakness, apathy, and dreariness. Her
conscience whispered to her that she had behaved badly, foolishly,
that evening, like some madcap girl--that she had just been
embraced on the verandah, and still had an uneasy feeling in her
waist and her elbow. There was not a soul in the drawing-room; there
was only one candle burning. Madame Lubyantsev sat on the round
stool before the piano, motionless, as though expecting something.
And as though taking advantage of the darkness and her extreme
lassitude, an oppressive, overpowering desire began to assail her.
Like a boa-constrictor it gripped her limbs and her soul, and grew
stronger every second, and no longer menaced her as it had done,
but stood clear before her in all its nakedness.

She sat for half an hour without stirring, not restraining herself
from thinking of Ilyin, then she got u