“Vladimir started, for in his veins the lust of passion had welled until it had reached boiling point.

“ ‘Countess,’ he cried, ‘do you know how terrible is this adoration of mine, how infinite this madness? No! My fancies have not deceived me⁠—I love you ecstatically, diabolically, as a madman might! All the blood that is in your husband’s body could never quench the furious, surging rapture that is in my soul! No puny obstacle could thwart the all-destroying, infernal flame which is eating into my exhausted breast! Oh Zinaida, my Zinaida!’

“ ‘Vladimir!’ she whispered, almost beside herself, as she sank upon his bosom.