She struggled to tear herself out of his grasp.
"Hold on!" he roared. "Answer me! Well?"
Out of breath, shamed and insulted, she remained silent.
"Don't put on airs now, you fool! I know your kind. You are
mighty pleased."
Some one opened the door. He let her go leisurely, saying:
"I will send a matchmaker to you next Sunday."
And he did.
The mother covered her eyes and heaved a deep sigh.
"I do not want to know how people used to live, but how they ought
to live!" The dull, dissatisfied voice of Vyesovshchikov was heard
in the room.
"That's it!" corroborated the red-headed man, rising.
"And I disagree!" cried Somov. "If we are to go forward, we must
know everything."
"True, true!" said the curly-headed youth in a low tone.
A heated discussion ensued; and the words flashed like tongues of
fire in a wood pile. The mother did not understand what they were
shouting about. All faces glowed in an aureole of animation, but
none grew angry, no one spoke the harsh, offensive words so familiar
to her.
"They restrain themselves on account of a woman's presence," she concluded.
The serious face of Natasha pleased her. The young woman looked at
all these young men so considerately, with the air of an elder
person toward children.
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