conversation. But still she kept looking at her guest so pitifully,
sighing so significantly, and shaking her head so sadly, that at last
he lost all patience, and asked her, somewhat brusquely, if she was
unwell.

"No, thank God!" answered Maria Dmitrievna; "but why do you ask?"

"Because I thought you did not seem quite yourself."

Maria Dmitrievna assumed a dignified and somewhat offended expression.

"If that's the way you take it," she thought, "it's a matter of
perfect indifference to me; it's clear that every thing slides off
you like water off a goose. Any one else would have withered up with
misery, but you've grown fat on it."

Maria Dmitrievna did not stand upon ceremony when she was only
thinking to herself. When she spoke aloud she was more choice in her
expressions.

And in reality Lavretsky did not look like a victim of destiny. His
rosy-cheeked, thoroughly Russian face, with its large white forehead,
somewhat thick nose, and long straight lips, seemed to speak of robust
health and enduring vigor of constitution. He was powerfully built,
and his light hair twined in curls, like a boy's, about his head. Only
in his eyes, which were blue, rather prominent, and a little wanting
in mobility, an expression might be remarked which it would be
difficult to define. It might have been melancholy, or it might have
been fatigue; and the ring of his voice seemed somewhat monotonous.