"Why do you say 'Thank God?'" asked Lavretsky.
"Why, because this fine young man doesn't please me. And what is there in the matter to be delighted about, I should like to know?"
"Doesn't he please you?"
"No; he can't fascinate every one. It's enough for him that Nastasia
Carpovna here is in love with him."
The poor widow was terribly disconcerted.
"How can you say so, Marfa Timofeevna? Do not you fear God?" she exclaimed, and a blush instantly suffused her face and neck.
"And certainly the rogue knows how to fascinate her," broke in Marfa Timofeevna. "He has given her a snuff-box. Fedia, ask her for a pinch of snuff. You will see what a splendid snuff-box it is. There is a hussar on horseback on the lid. You had much better not try to exculpate yourself, my mother."
Nastasia Carpovna could only wave her hands with a deprecatory air.
"Well, but about Liza?" asked Lavretsky. "Is he indifferent to her?"
"She seems to like him—and as to the rest, God knows. Another person's heart, you know, is a dark forest, and more especially a young girl's. Look at Shurochka there! Come and analyze her's. Why has she been hiding herself, but not going away, ever since you came in?"