ya Dmitrievna; "why do you ask?"

"Oh, I fancied you didn't seem to be quite yourself."

Marya Dmitrievna assumed a dignified and somewhat offended air. "If
that's how the land lies," she thought, "it's absolutely no matter to
me; I see, my good fellow, it's all like water on a duck's back for you;
any other man would have wasted away with grief, but you've grown fat
on it." Marya Dmitrievna did not mince matters in her own mind; she
expressed herself with more elegance aloud.

Lavretsky certainly did not look like the victim of fate. His
rosy-cheeked typical Russian face, with its large white brow, rather
thick nose, and wide straight lips seemed breathing with the wild
health of the steppes, with vigorous primaeval energy. He was splendidly
well-built, and his fair curly hair stood up on his head like a boy's.
It was only in his blue eyes, with their overhanging brows and
somewhat fixed look, that one could trace an expression, not exactly
of melancholy, nor exactly of weariness, and his voice had almost too
measured a cadence.

Panshin meanwhile continued to keep up the conversation. He turned
it upon the profits of sugar-boiling, on which he had lately read two
French pamphlets, and with modest composure undertook to expound their
contents, without mentioning, however, a single word about the source of
his information.

"Good God, it is Fedya!" came through the half-opened door the voice of
Marfa Timofyevna in the next room. "Fedya himself!" and the old woman
ran hurriedly into the room. Lavretsky had not time to get up from his
seat before she had him in her arms. "Let me have a look at you," she
said, holding his face off at arm's length. "Ah! what a splendid fellow
you are! You've grown older a little, but not a bit changed for the
worse, upon my word! But why are you kissing my hands--kiss my face
if you're not afraid of my wrinkled cheeks. You never asked after
me--whether your aunt was alive--I warrant: and you were in my arms as
soon as you were born, you great rascal! Well, that is nothing to you, I
suppose; why should you remember me? But it was a good idea of yours to
come back. And pray," she added, turning to Marya Dmitrievna, "have you
offered him something to eat?"

"I don't want anything," Lavretsky hastened to declare.

"Come, you must at least have some tea, my dear. Lord have mercy on us!
He has come from I don't know where, and they don't even give him a cup
of tea! Lisa, run and stir them