Her face was radiant with happiness, and her eyes beamed with joy as she looked at the black figure of Taras, clad in such a peculiarly thick frock coat, with pockets on the sides and with big buttons.

She walked on tiptoe, and somehow always stretched her neck toward her brother.

Foma looked at her questioningly, but she did not notice him, constantly running back and forth past the door, with plates and bottles in her hands.
It so happened that she glanced into the room just when her brother was telling her father about the galleys.

She stopped as though petrified, holding a tray in her outstretched hands and listened to everything her brother said about the punishment inflicted upon him.

She listened, and slowly walked away, without catching Foma's astonished and sarcastic glance.