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.
"Wait, comrades," she broke out suddenly.