"Yes, less stout, her face more expressive. She has more manner, and dresses with much taste."
"I always thought her pretty, and one of the best and most sympathetic girls whom I had ever met," said Nikolai, with the emphasis with which men praise girls with whom they feel themselves in the wrong.
"I asked her to visit us to-day. She said she could not come to-day, she expected a friend--Nita Sankjéwitch."
Nikolai bit his lips. In this moment that vein of loathing for his father rose again in him. Suddenly he felt something peculiar. He raised his eyes and met his father's. A shudder ran over him. So much anxious, supplicating sadness was in this glance.
They were at dessert when a waiter entered and presented a visiting-card to Lensky. Lensky changed color and trembled when he took the card from the salver and read the name.
"What does he want here?" he burst out violently, without restraining himself before the waiter.
"Who is it?" asked Mascha, in Russian.
"Perfection!" Lensky drummed confusedly on the table.
"But, papa, you cannot expect anything else," whispered Mascha, softly. "He has only shown you a politeness which is your due."