was only
moved to admiration by the splendid rapidity and flow of words on
Rudin's lips. In her eyes, however, he was something of the nature of
a virtuoso or artist; and from people of that kind, according to her
notions, it was impossible to demand a strict adherence to propriety.

She got up and drew her skirts with a jerk around her, observed to
Natalya that it was time to go in, especially as M. Volinsoff (so she
spoke of Volintsev) was to be there to lunch.

'And here he is,' she added, looking up one of the avenues which led to
the house, and in fact Volintsev appeared not far off.

He came up with a hesitating step, greeted all of them from a distance,
and with an expression of pain on his face he turned to Natalya and
said:

'Oh, you are having a walk?'

'Yes,' answered Natalya, 'we were just going home.'

'Ah!' was Volintsev's reply. 'Well, let us go,' and they all walked
towards the house.

'How is your sister?' Rudin inquired, in a specially cordial tone, of
Volintsev. The evening before, too, he had been very gracious to him.

'Thank you; she is quite well. She will perhaps be here to-day.... I
think you were discussing something when I came up?'

'Yes; I have had a conversation with Natalya Alexyevna. She said one
thing to me which affected me strongly.'

Volintsev did not ask what the one thing was, and in profound silence
they all returned to Darya Mihailovna's house.

Before dinner the party was again assembled in the drawing-room.
Pigasov, however, did not come. Rudin was not at his best; he did
nothing but press Pandalevsky to play Beethoven. Volintsev was silent
and stared at the floor. Natalya did not leave her mother's side, and
was at times lost in thought, and then bent over her work. Bassistoff
did not take his eyes off Rudin, constantly on the alert for him to say
something brilliant. About three hours were passed in this way rather
monotonously. Alexandra Pavlovna did not come to dinner, and when they
rose from table Volintsev at once ordered his carriage to be ready, and
slipped away without saying good-bye to any one.

His heart was heavy. He had long loved Natalya, and was repeatedly
resolving to make her an offer.... She was kindly disposed to him,--but
her heart remained unmoved; he saw that clearly. He did not hope to
inspire in her a tenderer sentiment, and was only waiting for the time
when she should be perfectly at home with him and intimate with him.
What could have