like Aunt Anfisa's brave and noble robbers. Often, when complaining of
her father, she said to Foma:

"You will also be just such a skinflint."

All this was unpleasant to the youth and stung his vanity. But at
times she was straightforward, simple-minded, and particularly kind and
friendly to him; then he would unburden his heart before her, and for a
long time they would share each other's thoughts and feelings.

Both spoke a great deal and spoke sincerely, but neither one understood
the other; it seemed to Foma that whatever Luba had to say was foreign
to him and unnecessary to her, and at the same time he clearly saw that
his awkward words did not at all interest her, and that she did not care
to understand them. No matter how long these conversations lasted, they
gave both of them the sensation of discomfort and dissatisfaction. As
if an invisible wall of perplexity had suddenly arisen and stood between
them. They did not venture to touch this wall, or to tell each other
that they felt it was there--they resumed their conversations, dimly
conscious that there was something in each of them that might bind and
unite them.

When Foma arrived at his godfather's house, he found Luba alone. She
came out to meet him, and it was evident that she was either ill or out
of humour; her eyes were flashing feverishly and were surrounded with
black circles. Feeling cold, she muffled herself in a warm shawl and
said with a smile:

"It is good that you've come! For I was sitting here alone; it is
lonesome--I don't feel like going anywhere. Will you drink tea?"

"I will. What is the matter with you, are you ill?"

"Go to the dining-room, and I'll tell them to bring the samovar," she
said, not answering his question.

He went into one of the small rooms of the house, whose two windows
overlooked the garden. In the middle of the room stood an oval table,
surrounded with old-fashioned, leather-covered chairs; on one partition
hung a clock in a long case with a glass door, in the corner was a
cupboard for dishes, and opposite the windows, by the walls, was an
oaken sideboard as big as a fair-sized room.

"Are you coming from the banquet?" asked Luba, entering.

Foma nodded his head mutely.

"Well, how was it? Grand?"

"It was terrible!" Foma smiled. "I sat there as if on hot coals. They
all looked there like peacocks, while I looked like a barn-owl."

Luba was taking out dishes from the cupboard and said nothing to Foma.