"How much I should like to see him!" said Lisa, with a sigh.
"Why, where is the difficulty? Tugilevo is not far from us—three versts only: take a walk or a ride in that direction; you are sure to meet him. He goes out daily, early in the morning, with his gun."
"No, that would not do. He might fancy that I am running after him. Besides, our fathers are not on good terms, so that anyhow I cannot make his acquaintance. But,—Nastia! shall I tell thee what? I shall dress as a peasant girl!"
"Why, certainly: put on a coarse shirt, and a sarafan[1] and go boldly to Tugilevo. I'll be bound Beréstoff will not pass you by."
"And I can so well imitate the peasants, as they speak here. Oh, Nastia! dear Nastia! what a glorious idea!"
And Lisa laid herself down to sleep, fully intending to carry out her lively project. She set about to mature her plans, and the very next morning sent to the market for some coarse linen, blue nankeen, and brass buttons, cut out a shirt and sarafan, with the help of Nastia, and put all the female servants to work, so that everything was ready when evening came. Lisa tried on her new finery, and was obliged to confess before her looking-glass that she had never yet seen herself to such advantage. She rehearsed her part, bowed low when walking, and shook her head several times, in imitation of plaster-of-Paris cats, speaking the peasant dialect, and covering her face with her sleeve when laughing, all of which elicited
- ↑ The national female dress.—Tr.
