They stood in the village street talking together, two little Russian peasant girls, dressed in rough carpet skirts, thick leather boots, with hair plaited in two long plaits and heads covered with bright kerchiefs as became unmarried girls.
Grusha was larger and taller than Masha, and her coloring stronger, in fact, she was stronger in all respects, and good-naturedly conscious of her superiority. She stood looking down on Masha with a mischievous smile on her red lips and in her black eyes.
“Is it that you mean to marry Ivan when he comes from the war, Grusha?” Masha was asking.
Grusha laughed.
“Perhaps,” she replied lightly.
“Then you are a bad girl, Grusha. Why do you keep Alioscha dancing after you?”
Grusha laughed again.
“What if he likes it? Alioscha would be more unhappy if I did not let him do his dancing. And besides, I like him.”
“Do you mean to marry him then, Grusha?”