snub nose; she fairly worshipped Marfa Timofeevna, and the latter loved her greatly, although she jeered at her tender heart: Nastasya Karpovna felt a weakness for all young people, and involuntarily blushed like a girl at the most innocent jest. Her entire capital consisted of twelve hundred paper rubles; she lived at the expense of Marfa Timofeevna, but on equal terms with her: Marfa Timofeevna would not have tolerated servility. "Ah, Fedya!" she began, as soon as she caught sight of him:--"last night, thou didst not see my family: admire it. We are all assembled for tea; this is our second, feast-day tea. Thou mayest pet all: only Schurotchka will not allow thee, and the cat scratches. Art thou going away to-day?" "Yes,"--Lavretzky seated himself on a narrow little chair.--"I have already said farewell to Marya Dmitrievna. I have also seen Lizaveta Mikhailovna." "Call her Liza, my father,--why should she be Mikhailovna to thee! And sit still, or thou wilt break Schurotchka's chair." "She has gone to church,"--pursued Lavretzky. "Is she pious?" "Yes, Fedya,--very. More than thou and I, Fedya." "But are not you pious?"--remarked Nastasya Karpovna, in a whisper. "And to-day: you did not get to the early Liturgy, but you will go to the later one." "Not a bit of it--thou wilt go alone: I am lazy, my mother,"--retorted Marfa Timofeevna,--"I am pampering myself greatly with my tea."--She called Nastasya _thou_, although she lived on equal terms with her,--she was not a Pestoff for nothing: three Pestoffs are recorded with distinction in the Book of Remembrance of Ivan Vasilievitch, the Terrible;[7] Marfa Timofeevna knew it. "Tell me, please,"--began Lavretzky again:--"Marya Dmitrievna has just been talking about that ... what's his name ... Panshin. What sort of a person is he?" "What a chatterbox, the Lord forgive her!"--grumbled Marfa Timofeevna:--"I suppose she imparted to you, as a secret, what a fine suitor has turned up. She might do her whispering with her priest's son; but no, that is not enough for her. But there's nothing in it, as yet, and thank God for that! but she's babbling already." "Why 'thank God'?"--asked Lavretzky. "Why, because the young fellow does not please me; and what is there to rejoice about?" "He does not please you?" "Yes, he cannot fascinate everybody. It's enough that Nastasya Karpovna here should be in love with him." The poor widow was thoroughly startled. "What makes you say that, Marfa Timofeevna? You do not fear God!"--she exclaimed, and a blush instantly suffused her face and neck. "And he certainly knows the rogue,"--Marfa Timofeevna interrupted her:--"he knows how to captivate her: he presented her with a snuff-box. Fedya, ask her to give thee a pinch of snuff; thou wilt see what a splendid snuff-box it is: on the lid is depicted a hussar on horseback. Thou hadst better not defend thyself, my mother." Nastasya Karpovna merely repelled the suggestion with a wave of her hands.