'Oh, he's not good-looking and he's not young, but every one's afraid of him. He's a dreadful duellist.' (Mamma frowned a little.) 'I should so like to see him.'
Sergei Sergeitch interrupted his daughter.
'What is there to see in him, my darling? Do you suppose he must look like Lord Byron?' (At that time we were only just beginning to talk about Lord Byron.) 'Nonsense! Why, I declare, my dear, there was a time when I had a terrible character as a fighting man.'
Masha looked wonderingly at her parent, laughed, then jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. His wife smiled a little, too... but Sergei Sergeitch had spoken the truth.
'I don't know if that gentleman is coming,' observed Nenila Makarievna. 'Possibly he may come too.'
The daughter sighed.
'Mind you don't go and fall in love with him,' remarked Sergei Sergeitch. 'I know you girls are all like that nowadays—so—what shall I say?—romantic...'
'No,' Masha responded simply.
Nenila Makarievna looked coldly at her husband. Sergei Sergeitch played with his watch-chain in some embarrassment, then took his wide-brimmed, English hat from the table, and set off to see after things on the estate.
