'Is she Russian?'
'Did you make her acquaintance here?'
'No; I have known her a long while.'
'How beautiful she is!'
'Did you notice her dress?' put in Kapitolina Markovna. 'Ten families might live for a whole year on the cost of her lace alone. Was that her husband with her?' she inquired turning to Litvinov.
'He must be awfully rich, I suppose?'
'Really I don't know; I don't think so.'
'What is his rank?'
'He 's a general.'
'What eyes she has!' said Tatyana, 'and what a strange expression in them: pensive and penetrating at the same time. . . . I have never seen such eyes.'
Litvinov made no answer; he fancied that he felt again Tatyana's questioning glance bent on his face, but he was wrong, she was looking at her own feet, at the sand of the path.
'Mercy on us! Who is that fright?' cried Kapitolina Markovna suddenly, pointing to a low jaunting-car in which a red-haired pug-nosed woman lay lolling impudently, in an extraordinarily gorgeous costume and lilac stockings.