"What a clever man," she thought, "is talking in my drawing-room!" Lisa sat in silence leaning back against the window; Lavretsky too was silent.

Marfa Timofyevna, playing cards with her old friend in the corner, muttered something to herself.

Panshin walked up and down the room, and spoke eloquently, but with secret exasperation.

It seemed as if he were abusing not a whole generation but a few people known to him.

In a great lilac bush in the Kalitins' garden a nightingale had built its nest; its first evening notes filled the pauses of the eloquent speech; the first stars were beginning to shine in the rosy sky over the motionless tops of the limes.