The fewest fish were caught by Lavretsky and Lisa; probably this was because they paid less attention than the others to the angling, and allowed their floats to swim back right up to the bank.

The high reddish reeds rustled quietly around, the still water shone quietly before them, and quietly too they talked together.

Lisa was standing on a small raft; Lavretsky sat on the inclined trunk of a willow; Lisa wore a white gown, tied round the waist with a broad ribbon, also white; her straw hat was hanging on one hand, and in the other with some effort she held up the crooked rod.

Lavretsky gazed at her pure, somewhat severe profile, at her hair drawn back behind her ears, at her soft cheeks, which glowed like a little child's, and thought, "Oh, how sweet you are, bending over my pond!" Lisa did not turn to him, but looked at the water, half frowning, to keep the sun out of her eyes, half smiling.

The shade of the lime-tree near fell upon both.
"Do you know," began Lavretsky, "I have been thinking over our last conversation a great deal, and have come to the conclusion that you are exceedingly good." "That was not at all my intention in-----" Lisa was beginning to reply, and she was overcome with embarrassment.
"You are good," repeated Lavretsky.