The second point was this. She had, without Laycvsky's knowledge, picked up during thcse two ycars various triĥcs to the tunc of thrce hundred roublcs in Achmianov's shop. Cloth, silk, a parasol—she had taken the stutf picccmcal, and the dcbt had piled up unnoticed.
'I'll tell him tod.iy,' she decided, but at once realized that with Laycvsky in his present mood this was hardly the best of times to tell him of his debts.
Thirdly, she had, in Laycvsky's absencc, twicc entertained Inspector Kirilin of the local police force—oncc on a morning when Layevsky had gone for a bathe, once at midnight when he had been pl'aying cards. Rcmcmbcring this, Nadezhda Aushed and glanced at the cook, as if afraid of the woman reading hcr mind. These long, intolerablc, sweltering, irksome days, these superb, languid cvenings, these stiAing nights, this whole existencc when time hung on your hands from dawn to dusk and you couldn't think what to do with it, this obsession with being the youngcst and lovcliest woman in to\wn, this feeling of frittcring away her youth, and Laycvsky himself—a decent, idealistic but humdrum pcrson for ever shuffling about in his slippers, biting his nails and annoying hcr with his tantrums ... all thcsc things gradually made hcr a prcy to desire, until, like some madwoman, she could think of only one thing morning noon and night. In her breathing, in her way of looking, speaking and walking, she was obsessed by desire. . The wash of wavcs spoke to her of the need to love, the darkness of evening carried the same messagc—as did the mountains too.
So when Kirilin had begun making up to her, she had been unable and unwilling to resist—it was beyond her powers—and had given herself to him.
These foreign steamers and white—lad people somehow reminded her of a hugc ballroom. French conversation mingled in her ears with the strains of a waltz, and her breast trembled with instinctive delight. She felt like dancing and speaking French. There was nothing so very terrible in being unfaithful, she was happy to think, nor had her heart been involved in that betrayal. Shc still lovcd Layevsky—witness her jealousy of him, her fondness for him, and the fact that she missed him when he was away. As for Kirilin, he had been nothing special, as it turned out—a bit common, good-looking as he was. She had already broken with him and it wouldn't happen again. It was over and done with, it was no one else's business, and if it came to Layevsky's ears he wouldn't believe it.
On the beach there was only one bathing-house—for ladies. The men swam out in the open. Going into the bathing-house, Nadezhda encountered a middle-agcd woman, Mary Bityugov—a civil servant's wife—and her fiftcen-year-old schoolgirl daughter Katya. They sat on a bench undressing. Mary Bityugov was a kind, effusive, gcnteel person who spoke with a drawl, and tended to over-dramatize things. She had been a governess up to the age of thirty-two, when she had married Bityugov, a small, bald official of cxtremc docility who brushed his hair over his temples. She was still in love with him, was still jealous, still blushcd at the word love, and told everyone how happy she was.
'My dear,' she said effusively, seeing Nadczhda and assuming an expression termed sugary by all her friends. 'My dear, how very nice to see you! We'll bathe together—how pcrfectly swcet!'
Olga quickly threw off her own dress and blouse and began un- dressing her mistress.
'Not quite so hot today, is it?' said Nadezhda, shrinking at the crudc touch of her naked cook. 'It was sweltering yesterday, I nearly died.'
'Yes, dear. I could hardly breathe myself. Do you know, I bathed three times yesterday—thrce, can you believc it? Even Mr. Bityugov was worried.'
'How can people be so ugly?' thought Nadezhda, as she lookcd at Olga and Bityugov's wife. She glanced at Katya. 'That girl's figurc isn't bad,' she thought.
'Your husband's terribly nice,' she told Mary Bityugov. 'I'm quite crazy about him.'
Mary Bityugov uttered a hollow laugh. 'Ha! ha! ha! How sweet!'
Released from her clothes, Nadezhda felt that she wanted to fly, felt that she had only to beat her arms to become air-borne. In her undress, she noticed Olga observing her white body with distaste. Olga, a young soldier's wife, lived with hcr lawful husband, and so thought herself a cut above Nadezhda. Nadezhda also sensed that Mary Bityugov and Katya feared hcr and looked down on her. This was disagreeable, and she decided to raise her standing in thcir eyes.
'At home in St. Petersburg the holiday season's in full swing just now,' she said. 'My husband and I know so many people, \vc rcally should pop over and sec them.' 'Your husband's an engineer, isn't he?' asked Mary Bityugov timidly.
'I mean Layevsky. He knows a lot of people, but his mother's no end of a snob, unluckily, and not quite all there '
Without fmishing what she was saying, Nadezhda plunged into the watcr followed by Mary Bityugov and Katya.
'Society's so prejudiced, we find,' Nadezhda went on. 'People7 aren't as easy to get on with as you might think.'
Having becn a governess in upper-class faiilies, Mary Bityugov kncw the ways of the world.
'Yes, indeed,' she said. 'Now, can you bclieve it, dear, at the Gara- tynskys' you had to dress for lunch and dinner, so I was paid a special dress allowance like an actrcss.'
She stood betwccn Nadezhda and Katya as if protecting her daughter from thc watcr which lapped Nadezhda. Through the open doorway to the sea someone could be seen swimming about a hundred yards from the bathing-house.
'It's Kostya, Mother,' said Katya.
'Dear, oh dear!' clucked the horrorstruck Mary Bityugov. 'Kostya!' shc shouted. 'Come back! Come back, Kostya!'
Kostya, a boy of about fourteen, plunged and swam on further to show offin front of his mother and sister, but then tired and hurried back. His earnest, strained expression showed that he did not trust his own strength.
'Boys are so much trouble, dear,' said Mary, relieved. 'He always seems about to brcak his neck. Oh, how nice to be a mother, dear— but how worrying too. Onc is afraid of evcrything.'
Putting on hcr straw hat, Nadezhda plunged out to sea. She swam .about tcn yards, thcn floated on her back. She could see the sea as far as thc horizon, the steamcrs, thc peoplc on the bcach, the town—all of which, combined with hcat and thc caress of translucent waves, aroused hcr, whispering that she needed a bit of life and cxcitemcnt.
Past hcr spcd a sailing boat, vigorously clcaving waves and air. The hclmsman looked at hcr—how nice to be looked at, she fclt.
After thcir bathe thc ladies drcssed and went off togethcr.
'I run a tcmperaturc every other day, but I don't lose wcight,' said Nadezhda, licking lips salty aftcr her bathe, and greeting acquaintances' bows with a smilc. 'I always was plump, and now I'm cven more so, I think.'