They say," added Lavretsky after a short pause, "that Vladimir Nikolaitch has written a very pretty song." "Yes," replied Lisa, "it is only a trifle, but not bad." "And what do you think," inquired Lavretsky; "is he a good musician ?" "I think he has great talent for music; but so far he has not worked at it, as he should." "Ah! And is he a good sort of man ?" Lisa laughed and glanced quickly at Fedor Ivanitch.
"What a queer question!" she exclaimed, drawing up her line and throwing it in again further off.
"Why is it queer?
I ask you about him, as one who has only lately come here, as a relation." "A relation ?" "Yes.

I am, it seems, a sort of uncle of yours ?" "Vladimir Nikolaitch has a good heart," said Lisa, "and he is clever; maman likes him very much." "And do you like him ?" "He is nice; why should I not like him ?" "Ah!" Lavretsky uttered and ceased speaking.

A half-mournful, half-ironical expression passed over his face.

His steadfast gaze embarrassed Lisa, but he went on smiling.--"Well, God grant them happiness!" he muttered at last, as though to himself, and turned away his head.
Lisa flushed.
"You are mistaken, Fedor Ivanitch," she said: "you are wrong in thinking ....

But don't you like Vladimir Nikolaitch ?" she asked suddenly.
"No, I don't." "Why ?" "I think he has no heart." The smile left Lisa's face.
"It is your habit to judge people severely," she observed after a long silence.
"I don't think it is.