“I must begin with something trivial,” he thought, “and pass to what is serious....”
“What a pretty dress you have,” and with his finger he touched the gold fringe of her fichu.
“Oh, is it?...” said the dark woman listlessly.
“What province do you come from?”
“I? From a distance.... From Tchernigov.”
“A fine province. It’s nice there.”
“Any place seems nice when one is not in it.”
“It’s a pity I cannot describe nature,” thought Vassilyev. “I might touch her by a description of nature in Tchernigov. No doubt she loves the place if she has been born there.”
“Are you dull here?” he asked.
“Of course I am dull.”