r shoulders.

'You will not even have luncheon here?' she asked.

'Thank you; I never take luncheon, and I am in a hurry to get home.'

Darya Mihailovna got up.

'I will not detain you,' she said, going to the window. 'I will not
venture to detain you.'

Lezhnyov began to take leave.

'Good-bye, Monsieur Lezhnyov! Pardon me for having troubled you.'

'Oh, not at all!' said Lezhnyov, and he went away.

'Well, what do you say to that?' Darya Mihailovna asked of Rudin. 'I had
heard he was eccentric, but really that was beyond everything!'

'His is the same disease as Pigasov's,' observed Rudin, 'the desire of
being original. One affects to be a Mephistopheles--the other a cynic.
In all that, there is much egoism, much vanity, but little truth, little
love. Indeed, there is even calculation of a sort in it. A man puts on
a mask of indifference and indolence so that some one will be sure to
think. "Look at that man; what talents he has thrown away!" But if
you come to look at him more attentively, there is no talent in him
whatever.'

'_Et de deux!_' was Darya Mihailovna's comment. 'You are a terrible man
at hitting people off. One can hide nothing from you.'

'Do you think so?' said Rudin.... 'However,' he continued, 'I ought not
really to speak about Lezhnyov; I loved him, loved him as a friend...
but afterwards, through various misunderstandings...'

'You quarrelled?'

'No. But we parted, and parted, it seems, for ever.'

'Ah, I noticed that the whole time of his visit you were not quite
yourself.... But I am much indebted to you for this morning. I have
spent my time extremely pleasantly. But one must know where to stop.
I will let you go till lunch time and I will go and look after my
business. My secretary, you saw him--Constantin, _c'est lui qui est mon
secretaire_--must be waiting for me by now. I commend him to you; he is
an excellent, obliging young man, and quite enthusiastic about you.
_Au revoir, cher_ Dmitri Nikolaitch! How grateful I am to the baron for
having made me acquainted with you!'

And Darya Mihailovna held out her hand to Rudin. He first pressed it,
then raised it to his lips and went away to the drawing-room and from
there to the terrace. On the terrace he met Natalya.

V

Darya Mihailovna's daughter, Natalya Alexyevna, at a first glance might
fail to please. She had not yet had time to develop; she was thin, and
dark, and stooped slightly. But her features were fine and