She had met him when he was yet a Gymnasium student, his face was covered with freckles, he was snub-nosed, always clean, sedate and tiresome.

He danced heavily, awkwardly, he talked uninterestingly.
A long time had passed since then, he had been abroad, had studied something there, how was he now?
From Smolin her thoughts darted to her brother, and with a sinking heart she thought: what would he say in reply to her letter?
What sort of a man was he?
The image of her brother as she had pictured it to herself prevented her from seeing both her father and Smolin, and she had already made up her mind not to consent to marry before meeting Taras, when suddenly her father shouted to her: "Eh, Lubovka! Why are you thoughtful?
What are you thinking of mostly ?" "So, everything goes so swiftly," replied Luba, with a smile.
"What goes swiftly ?" "Everything.

A week ago it was impossible to speak with you about Taras, while now--" "'Tis need, my girl! Need is a power, it bends a steel rod into a spring.

And steel is stubborn.

Taras, we'll see what he is! Man is to be appreciated by his resistance to the power of life; if it isn't life that wrings him, but he that wrings life to suit himself, my respects to that man! Allow me to shake your hand, let's run our business together.
Eh, I am old.