At first sight he had struck her as undefined, characterless.
She had seen many such fair, lean, sinewy men in her day, but the more
she watched him, the longer she listened to him, the stronger grew her
feeling of confidence in him--for it was confidence he inspired her
with. This calm, not exactly clumsy, but heavy man, was not only
incapable of lying or bragging, but one could rely on him as on a stone
wall. He would not betray one; more than that, he would understand and
help one. It seemed to Mariana that he aroused such a feeling, not only
in herself alone, but in everyone present. The things he spoke about had
no particular interest for her. She attached very little significance
to all this talk about factories and merchants, but the way in which
he spoke, the manner in which he looked round and smiled, pleased her
immensely.

A straightforward man... at any rate! this was what appealed to her. It
is a well-known fact, though not very easy to understand, that Russians
are the greatest liars on the face of the earth, yet there is nothing
they respect more than truth, nothing they sympathise with more. And
then Solomin, in Mariana's eyes, was surrounded by a particular halo, as
a man who had been recommended by Vassily Nikolaevitch himself. During
dinner she had exchanged glances with Nejdanov several times on his
account, and in the end found herself involuntarily comparing the two,
not to Nejdanov's advantage. Nejdanov's face was, it is true, handsomer
and pleasanter to look at than Solomin's, but the very face expressed a
medley of troubled sensations: embarrassment, annoyance, impatience, and
even dejection.

He seemed to be sitting on hot coals; tried to speak, but did not, and
laughed nervously. Solomin, on the other hand, seemed a little bored,
but looked quite at home and utterly independent of what was going on
around him. "We must certainly ask advice of this man," Mariana thought,
"he is sure to tell us something useful." It was she who had sent
Nejdanov to him after dinner.

The evening went very slowly; fortunately dinner was not over until late
and not very long remained before bedtime. Kollomietzev was sulky and
said nothing.

"What is the matter with you?" Madame Sipiagina asked half-jestingly.
"Have you lost anything?"

"Yes, I have," Kollomietzev replied. "There is a story about a certain
officer in the lifeguards who was very much grieved that his soldiers
had lost a sock of his. 'Find me