was deprived of the pleasure of making the princess's acquaintance.
After she had once made Varenka's acquaintance, Kitty became more and more attached to her friend, and each day discovered some new charm in her. The princess, having discovered that Varenka sang well, invited her to come and give them an evening of music.
"Kitty plays, and we have a piano; not a very good instrument, to be sure, but you would give us a great pleasure," said the princess, with her hypocritical smile which was displeasing to Kitty, especially as she knew that Varenka did not want to sing. But Varenka came, that same evening, and brought her music. The princess had invited Marya Yevgenyevna and her daughter, and the colonel.
Varenka seemed perfectly indifferent to the presence of these people, who were strangers to her, and she went to the piano without being urged. She could not accompany herself, but in singing she read the notes perfectly. Kitty, who played very well, accompanied her.
"You have a remarkable talent," said the princess, after the first song, which Varenka sang beautifully.
Marya Yevgenyevna and her daughter added their compliments and their thanks.
"See," said the colonel, looking out of the window, "what an audience you have attracted."
In fact, a large number of people had gathered in front of the house.
"I am very glad to have given you pleasure," said Varenka, without affectation.
Kitty looked at her friend proudly; she admired her art and her voice and her face, and, more than all, she was enthusiastic over the way in which Varenka made it evident that she took little account of her singing, and was perfectly indifferent to compliments. She simply seemed to say, "Shall I sing some more, or is that enough?"
"If I were in her place, how proud I should be! How happy I should be to see that crowd under the window! But she seems perfectly unconscious of it. All that
