nge into dissertations on philosophical matters or matters of
feeling. Again, the two former liked talking about the fair objects of
their adoration (these were always numerous, and always shared by the
friends in common), whereas Nechludoff invariably grew annoyed when
taxed with his love for a certain red-haired lady.

Again, Woloda and Dubkoff often permitted themselves to criticise their
relatives, and to find amusement in so doing, but Nechludoff flew into
a tremendous rage when on one occasion they referred to some weak points
in the character of an aunt of his whom he adored. Finally, after supper
Woloda and Dubkoff would usually go off to some place whither Nechludoff
would not accompany them; wherefore they called him "a dainty girl."

The very first time that I ever saw Prince Nechludoff I was struck
with his exterior and conversation. Yet, though I could discern a great
similarity between his disposition and my own (or perhaps it was because
I COULD so discern it), the impression which he produced upon me at
first was anything but agreeable. I liked neither his quick glance, his
hard voice, his proud bearing, nor (least of all) the utter indifference
with which he treated me. Often, when conversing, I burned to contradict
him, to punish his pride by confuting him, to show him that I was clever
in spite of his disdainful neglect of my presence. But I was invariably
prevented from doing so by my shyness.

XXVI. DISCUSSIONS

Woloda was lying reading a French novel on the sofa when I paid my usual
visit to his room after my evening lessons. He looked up at me for a
moment from his book, and then went on reading. This perfectly simple
and natural movement, however, offended me. I conceived that the glance
implied a question why I had come and a wish to hide his thoughts from
me (I may say that at that period a tendency to attach a meaning to the
most insignificant of acts formed a prominent feature in my character).
So I went to the table and also took up a book to read. Yet, even before
I had actually begun reading, the idea struck me how ridiculous it was
that, although we had never seen one another all day, we should have not
a word to exchange.

"Are you going to stay in to-night, Woloda?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Oh, because--" Seeing that the conversation did not promise to be
a success, I took up my book again, and began to read. Yet it was a
strange thing that, though we sometimes passed whole