and smartly dressed; she was conscious of this and felt sorry for
him and for some reason awkward.

"And you say a great deal you should not," she said. "You've just
been talking about my Andrey, but you see you don't know him."

"My Andrey. . . . Bother him, your Andrey. I am sorry for your
youth."

They were already sitting down to supper as the young people went
into the dining-room. The grandmother, or Granny as she was called
in the household, a very stout, plain old lady with bushy eyebrows
and a little moustache, was talking loudly, and from her voice and
manner of speaking it could be seen that she was the person of most
importance in the house. She owned rows of shops in the market, and
the old-fashioned house with columns and the garden, yet she prayed
every morning that God might save her from ruin and shed tears as
she did so. Her daughter-in-law, Nadya's mother, Nina Ivanovna, a
fair-haired woman tightly laced in, with a pince-nez, and diamonds
on every finger, Father Andrey, a lean, toothless old man whose
face always looked as though he were just going to say something
amusing, and his son, Andrey Andreitch, a stout and handsome young
man with curly hair looking like an artist or an actor, were all
talking of hypnotism.

"You will get well in a week here," said Granny, addressing Sasha.
"Only you must eat more. What do you look like!" she sighed. "You
are really dreadful! You are a regular prodigal son, that is what
you are."