'Darya Mihailovna is a clever woman, I like and esteem her very much;
but she may make mistakes, and I don't put faith in everything she
says.'

'And it's a very good thing you don't,' rejoined Mihailo Mihailitch,
who all the while remained sitting in his droshky, 'for she doesn't
put much faith in what she says herself. I'm very glad I met you.'

'Why?'

'That's a nice question! As though it wasn't always delightful to meet
you? To-day you look as bright and fresh as this morning.'

Alexandra Pavlovna laughed again.

'What are you laughing at?'

'What, indeed! If you could see with what a cold and indifferent face
you brought out your compliment! I wonder you didn't yawn over the
last word!'

'A cold face. . . . You always want fire; but fire is of no use at
all. It flares and smokes and goes out.'

'And warms,' . . . put in Alexandra Pavlovna.

'Yes . . . and burns.'

'Well, what if it does burn! That's no great harm either! It's
better anyway than----'