expression came into it. Even his walk was changed; his steps were
longer and he trod more heavily. He had walked about two miles,
carelessly swinging his cane, when all at once he began to smile
again: he saw by the roadside a young, rather pretty peasant girl, who
was driving some calves out of an oat-field. Konstantin Diomiditch
approached the girl as warily as a cat, and began to speak to her. She
said nothing at first, only blushed and laughed, but at last she hid
her face in her sleeve, turned away, and muttered:

'Go away, sir; upon my word . . .'

Konstantin Diomiditch shook his finger at her and told her to bring
him some cornflowers.

'What do you want with cornflowers?--to make a wreath?' replied the
girl; 'come now, go along then.'

'Stop a minute, my pretty little dear,' Konstantin Diomiditch was
beginning.

'There now, go along,' the girl interrupted him, 'there are the young
gentlemen coming.'

Konstantin Diomiditch looked round. There really were Vanya and Petya,
Darya Mihailovna's sons, running along the road; after them walked
their tutor, Bassistoff, a young man of two-and-twenty, who had only
just left college. Bassistoff was a well-grown youth, with a simple
face, a large nose, thick lips, and small pig's eyes, plain and
awkward, but kind, good, and upright. He dressed untidily and wore his
hair long--not from affectation, but from laziness; he liked eating