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shoulders, and the family rushed out into the
hall to meet him.
Fedor Paulitsch had a pleasant voice; he
seemed quite young, his short chestnut hair
stood like a velvet cushion round his head, his
cheeks were flushed with the cold air, his bright
brown eyes looked round merrily, he had a
fine moustache, and from between his fresh
red lips a set of brilliant white teeth shone
out.
‘How beautiful! how stately!’ Tania thought,
and kept looking at him in rapture.
‘Who is that? Aniuta?’ he asked pointing at
Tania.
‘Oh dear no; what are you thinking of, Fedia?
Aniuta is quite a young lady; this is only Tania,’
Elena Paulovna answered in an injured tone.
‘Well, your girls are grown indeed! Look
out, Lena, they will soon make an old woman of
you,’ Fedor Paulitsch exclaimed laughing, and
kissed Tania. She felt shy without knowing
why, and blushed deeply.
Dinner was very gay; Uncle Fedor kept
chatting the whole time and made everybody
laugh. Ivan Sergejevitsch himself treated his
brother-in-law with great consideration, not in
the patronising way which he sometimes adopted
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