“No, thank God!” answered Maria Dmitrievna; “but why do you ask?”

“Because I thought you did not seem quite yourself.”

Maria Dmitrievna assumed a dignified and somewhat offended expression.

“If that’s the way you take it,” she thought, “it’s a matter of perfect indifference to me; it’s clear that every thing slides off you like water off a goose.  Any one else would have withered up with misery, but you’ve grown fat on it.”

Maria Dmitrievna did not stand upon ceremony when she was only thinking to herself.  When she spoke aloud she was more choice in her expressions.

And in reality Lavretsky did not look like a victim of destiny.  His rosy-cheeked, thoroughly Russian face, with its large white forehead, somewhat thick nose, and long straight lips, seemed to speak of robust health and enduring vigor of constitution.  He was powerfully built, and his light hair twined in curls, like a boy’s, about his head.  Only in his eyes, which were blue, rather prominent, and a little wanting in mobility, an expression might be remarked which it would be difficult to define.  It might have been melancholy, or it might have been fatigue; and the ring of his voice seemed somewhat monotonous.

All this time Panshine was supporting the burden of the conversation.  He brought it round to the advantages of sugar making, about which he had lately read two French pamphlets; their contents he now proceeded to disclose, speaking with an air of great modesty, but without saying a single word about the sources of his information.

“Why, there’s Fedia!” suddenly exclaimed the voice of Marfa Timofeevna in the next room, the door of which had been left half open.  “Actually, Fedia!” And the old lady hastily entered the room.  Lavretsky hadn’t had time to rise from his chair before she had caught him in her arms.  “Let me have a look at you,” she exclaimed, holding him at a little distance from her.  “Oh, how well you are looking!  You’ve grown a little older, but you haven’t altered a bit for the worse, that’s a fact.  But what makes you kiss my hand.  Kiss my face, if you please, unless you don’t like the look of my wrinkled cheeks.  I dare say you never asked after me, or whether your aunt was alive or no.  And yet it was my hands received you when you first saw the light, you good-for-nothing fellow!  Ah, well, it’s all one.  But it was a good idea of yours to come here.  I say, my dear,” she suddenly exclaimed, turning to Maria Dmitrievna, “have you offered him any refreshment?”

“I don’t want any thing,” hastily said Lavretsky.

“Well, at all events, you will drink tea with us, batyushka.  Gracious heavens!  A man comes, goodness knows from how far off, and no one gives him so much as a cup of tea.  Liza, go and see after it quickly.  I remember he was a terrible glutton when he was a boy, and even now, perhaps, he is fond of eating and drinking.”

“Allow me to pay my respects, Maria Timofeevna,” said Panshine, coming up to the excited old lady, and making her a low bow.