"Why, our mothers used to be married at twelve or thirteen." "And she's in love with Boris already.

Just fancy!" said the countess with a gentle smile, looking at Boris' and went on, evidently concerned with a thought that always occupied her: "Now you see if I were to be severe with her and to forbid it...

goodness knows what they might be up to on the sly" (she meant that they would be kissing), "but as it is, I know every word she utters.

She will come running to me of her own accord in the evening and tell me everything.

Perhaps I spoil her, but really that seems the best plan.