[Footnote A: A reference to the superstition of the "evil eye," still rife among the peasants in Russia. Though it has died out among the educated classes, yet the phrase, "not to cast an evil eye," is still made use of in conversation.] "When I think what a number of years it is since we last saw one another," musingly said Maria Dmitrievna. "Where do you come from now? Where have you left--that's to say, I meant"--she hurriedly corrected herself--"I meant to say, shall you stay with us long?" "I come just now from Berlin," replied Lavretsky, "and to-morrow I shall go into the country--to stay there, in all probability, a long time." "I suppose you are going to live at Lavriki?" "No, not at Lavriki; but I have a small property about five-and-twenty versts from here, and I am going there." "Is that the property which Glafira Petrovna left you?" "Yes, that's it." "But really, Fedor Ivanovich, you have such a charming house at Lavriki." Lavretsky frowned a little. "Yes--but I have a cottage on the other estate too; I don't require any more just now. That place is--most convenient for me at present." Maria Dmitrievna became once more so embarrassed that she actually sat upright in her chair, and let her hands drop by her side. Panshine came to the rescue, and entered into conversation with Lavretsky. Maria Dmitrievna by degrees grew calm, leant back again comfortably in her chair, and from time to time contributed a word or two to the conversation. But still she kept looking at her guest so pitifully, sighing so significantly, and shaking her head so sadly, that at last he lost all patience, and asked her, somewhat brusquely, if she was unwell. "No, thank God!" answered Maria Dmitrievna; "but why do you ask?" "Because I thought you did not seem quite yourself." Maria Dmitrievna assumed a dignified and somewhat offended expression. "If that's the way you take it," she thought, "it's a matter of perfect indifference to me; it's clear that every thing slides off you like water off a goose. Any one else would have withered up with misery, but you've grown fat on it." Maria Dmitrievna did not stand upon ceremony when she was only thinking to herself. When she spoke aloud she was more choice in her expressions. And in reality Lavretsky did not look like a victim of destiny. His rosy-cheeked, thoroughly Russian face, with its large white forehead, somewhat thick nose, and long straight lips, seemed to speak of robust health and enduring vigor of constitution. He was powerfully built, and his light hair twined in curls, like a boy's, about his head. Only in his eyes, which were blue, rather prominent, and a little wanting in mobility, an expression might be remarked which it would be difficult to define. It might have been melancholy, or it might have been fatigue; and the ring of his voice seemed somewhat monotonous.