'Mihailo Mihailitch Lezhnyov is here,' announced the steward. 'Will
you see him?'

'Good Heavens!' exclaimed Darya Mihailovna, 'speak of the
devil----ask him up.'

The steward went away.

'He's such an awkward creature. Now he has come, it's at the wrong
moment; he has interrupted our talk.'

Rudin got up from his seat, but Darya Mihailovna stopped him.

'Where are you going? We can discuss the matter as well before you.
And I want you to analyse him too, as you did Pigasov. When you talk,
_vous gravez comme avec un burin_. Please stay.' Rudin was going to
protest, but after a moment's thought he sat down.

Mihailo Mihailitch, whom the reader already knows, came into the room.
He wore the same grey overcoat, and in his sunburnt hands he carried
the same old foraging cap. He bowed tranquilly to Darya Mihailovna,
and came up to the tea-table.

'At last you have favoured me with a visit, Monsieur Lezhnyov!' began
Darya Mihailovna. 'Pray sit down. You are already acquainted,
I hear,' she continued, with a gesture in Rudin's direction.

Lezhnyov looked at Rudin and smiled rather queerly.