“I don’t scold you; I only ask you to keep within bounds. You used to run about with Nikolai Andreevich—”
Marfinka reddened and retired to her corner.
“That is no harm,” continued Tatiana Markovna. “There is nothing against Nikolai Andreevich, but he is just as wild as you are. You are my dearest child, and you will remember what is due to your dignity.”
Marfinka blushed crimson.
“Don’t blush, darling. I know that you will do nothing wrong, but for other people’s sake you must be careful. Why do you look so angry. Come and let me kiss you.”
“Nikolai Andreevich will be here in a moment, and I don’t know how to face him.”
Before Tatiana Markovna could answer Vikentev burst in, covered with dust and perspiration, carrying music and a book which he laid on the table by Marfinka.
“Give me your hand, Marfa Vassilievna,” he cried, wiping his forehead. “How I did run, with the dogs after me!”
Marfinka hid her hand, bowed, and returned with dignity:
“Je vous remercie, monsieur Vikentev, vous êtes bien amiable.”