“It’s a pity, sister, that we have so little room,” the uncle said to Anna Fyódorovna, “and that the wing is not yet finished; we might have invited the officers. Hussar officers, you know, are such splendid, gay, young fellows. One would have liked to see something of them.”

“Why, of course I should have been only too glad; but you know yourself, brother, we have no room. There’s my bedroom, and Lisa’s room, the drawing-room, this, and your room, and that’s all. Where is one to put them?⁠—really now. The village elder’s cottage has been cleaned out for them: Michael Matvéef says it’s quite clean.”

“And we could have chosen a bridegroom for you, Lizzie, from among them⁠—a fine hussar.”

“No, I don’t want an hussar; I’d rather have an Uhlan. Weren’t you in the Uhlans, uncle?⁠ ⁠… I don’t want to have anything to do with these. They are said all to be desperate fellows.” And Lisa blushed a little, but again laughed her musical laugh.