'Yes, I believe he has to be here for a fortnight.'

And Kirilla Matveitch hurried away to dress. I walked several times up
and down the drawing-room. I don't recollect that Prince N.'s arrival
made any special impression on me at the time, except that feeling of
hostility which usually possesses us on the appearance of any new
person in our domestic circle. Possibly there was mingled with this
feeling something too of the nature of envy--of a shy and obscure
person from Moscow towards a brilliant officer from Petersburg. 'The
prince,' I mused, 'is an upstart from the capital; he'll look down upon
us....' I had not seen him for more than an instant, but I had had time
to perceive that he was good-looking, clever, and at his ease. After
pacing the room for some time, I stopped at last before a
looking-glass, pulled a comb out of my pocket, gave a picturesque
carelessness to my hair, and, as sometimes happens, became suddenly
absorbed in the contemplation of my own face. I remember my attention
centred anxiously about my nose; the soft and undefined outlines of
that feature afforded me no great satisfaction, when suddenly in the
dark depths of the sloping mirror, which reflected almost the whole
room, the door opened, and the slender figure of Liza appeared. I don't
know why I did not stir, and kept the same expression on my face. Liza
craned her head forward, looked intently at me, and raising her
eyebrows, biting her lips, and holding her breath as any one does who
is glad at not being noticed, she cautiously drew back and stealthily
drew the door to after her. The door creaked slightly. Liza started and
stood rooted to the spot... I still kept from stirring ... she pulled
the handle again and vanished. There was no possibility of doubt: the
expression of Liza's face at the sight of my figure, that expression in
which nothing could be detected except a desire to get away again