but still, she’s not what I was at her age; she’s a nice girl, but no, not like that …”
“Lisa, you should put on your mousseline-de-laine dress for the evening.”
“Why, mother, you are not going to ask them in here? Better not,” said Lisa, unable to master her excitement at the thought of seeing the officers: “Better not, mama!”
And really, the desire of seeing them was less strong than the fear of the agitating joy which, as she imagined, awaited her.
“Maybe they themselves will feel inclined to make our acquaintance, Lizzie!” said Anna Fyódorovna, stroking her head and thinking, “No, her hair is not what mine was at her age … No, Lizzie, how I should like you to …” And she really did very earnestly desire something for her daughter. But a marriage with the Count was out of the question, and relations such as she had had with the father she could not desire for her daughter; but still she did desire something very much. She may have longed to live again, in the soul of her daughter, what she had experienced with him who was dead.
The old cavalryman was also somewhat excited by the arrival of the Count. He went and locked himself into his room. In a quarter of an hour he emerged thence in a Hungarian jacket and pale-blue trousers, and went into the room prepared for the visitors, with the bashfully-pleased expression of a girl who for the first time in her life puts on a ball-dress.
“I’ll have a look at the hussars of today, sister! The late Count was, indeed, a true hussar. I’ll see, I’ll see.”
The officers had already, through the back entrance, reached the room assigned to them.