"'Yes, yes,' he assented, with a sigh, 'you're right; it's all very
poor and crude; what's to be done? I haven't had the training I ought
to have had; besides, one's cursed Slavonic slackness gets the better
of one. While one dreams of work, one soars away in eagle flight; one
fancies one's going to shake the earth out of its place--but when it
comes to doing anything, one's weak and weary directly."

The heroine of "Rudin," the young girl Natalya, is a faint sketch of
the future Lisa. Turgenev's girls never seem to have any fun; how
different they are from the twentieth century American novelist's
heroine, for whom the world is a garden of delight, with exceedingly
attractive young men as gardeners! These Russian young women are
grave, serious, modest, religious, who ask and expect little for
themselves, and who radiate feminine charm. They have indomitable
power of will, characters of rocklike steadfastness, enveloped in a
disposition of ineffable sweetness. Of course they at first fall an
easy prey to the men who have the gift of eloquence; for nothing
hypnotises a woman more speedily than noble sentiments in the mouth of
a man. Her whole being vibrates in mute adoration, like flowers to the
sunlight. The essential goodness of a woman's heart is fertile soil
for an orator, whether he speaks from the platform or in a
conservatory. Natalya is limed almost instantly by the honey of
Rudin's language, and her virgin soul expands at his declaration of
love. Despite the opposition of her mother, despite the iron bonds of
convention, she is ready to forsake all and follow him. To her
unspeakable amazement and dismay, she finds that the great orator is
vox, et praeterea nihil.

"'And what advice can I give you, Natalya Alexyevna?'