My new acquaintance was called Alexander Davidovitch Fustov. He lived
with his mother, a rather wealthy woman, the widow of a privy
councillor, but he occupied a little lodge apart and lived quite
independently, just as I did at my aunt's. He had a post in the
department of Court affairs. I became genuinely attached to him. I had
never in my life met a young man more 'sympathetic.' Everything about
him was charming and attractive: his graceful figure, his bearing, his
voice, and especially his small, delicate face with the golden-blue
eyes, the elegant, as it were coquettishly moulded little nose, the
unchanging amiable smile on the crimson lips, the light curls of soft
hair over the rather narrow, snow-white brow. Fustov's character was
remarkable for exceptional serenity, and a sort of amiable, restrained
affability; he was never pre-occupied, and was always satisfied with
everything; but on the other hand he was never ecstatic over anything.
Every excess, even in a good feeling, jarred upon him; 'that's savage,
savage,' he would say with a faint shrug, half closing his golden eyes.
Marvellous were those eyes of Fustov's! They invariably expressed
sympathy, good-will, even devotion. It was only at a later period that I
noticed that the expression of his eyes resulted solely from their
setting, that it never changed, even when he was sipping his soup or
smoking a cigar. His preciseness became a byword between us. His
grandmother, indeed, had been a German. Nature had endowed him with all
sorts of talents. He danced capitally, was a dashing horseman, and a
first-rate swimmer; did carpentering, carving and joinery, bound books
and cut out silhouettes, painted in watercolours nosegays of flowers or
Napoleon in profile in a blue uniform; played the zither with feeling;
knew a number of tricks, with cards and without; and had a fair
knowledge of mechanics, physics, and chemistry; but everything only up
to a certain point. Only for languages he had no great facility: even
French he spoke rather badly. He spoke in general little, and his share