'I want to say... that I think you charming... Marya Sergievna, awfully charming....'
'I am very grateful to you,' Masha interrupted him; her heart was aching with anticipation and terror. 'Ah, do look, Mr. Lutchkov,' she went on—'look, what a view!'
She pointed to the meadow, streaked with long, evening shadows, and flushed red with the sunset.
Inwardly overjoyed at the abrupt change in the conversation, Lutchkov began admiring the view. He was standing near Masha....
'You love nature?' she asked suddenly, with a rapid turn of her little head, looking at him with that friendly, inquisitive, soft glance, which is a gift only vouchsafed to young girls.
'Yes... nature... of course...' muttered Avdey. 'Of course... a stroll's pleasant in the evening, though, I confess, I'm a soldier, and fine sentiments are not in my line.'
Lutchkov often repeated that he 'was a soldier.' A brief silence followed. Masha was still looking at the meadow.
'How about getting away?' thought Avdey. 'What rot it is, though! Come, more pluck!... Marya Sergievna...' he began, in a fairly resolute voice.
Masha turned to him.
'Excuse me,' he began, as though in joke, 'but let me on my side know what you think of me, whether you feel at all... so to say,... amiably disposed towards my person?'