"Perhaps I've said something wrong, improper." "Oh, no, no! You cannot say anything improper.

You are a pure, amiable boy.

And so, my eyes are not shameless ?" "Yours are like an angel's!" announced Foma with enthusiasm, looking at her with beaming eyes.

And she glanced at him, as she had never done before; her look was that of a mother, a sad look of love mingled with fear for the beloved.
"Go, dear one.

I am tired; I need a rest," she said to him, as she rose without looking at him.