Book 1 Chapter 27 Missys Mother

"Yes, that is so," said Nekhludoff. "One often feels one's own
de--one feels one has no right to judge."

"Comme, c'est vrai," she cried, as if struck by the truth of this
remark. She was in the habit of artfully flattering all those
with whom she conversed. "Well, and what of your picture? It does
interest me so. If I were not such a sad invalid I should have
been to see it long ago," she said.

"I have quite given it up," Nekhludoff replied drily. The
falseness of her flattery seemed as evident to him to-day as her
age, which she was trying to conceal, and he could not put
himself into the right state to behave politely.

"Oh, that _is_ a pity! Why, he has a real talent for art; I have
it from Repin's own lips," she added, turning to Kolosoff.

"Why is it she is not ashamed of lying so?" Nekhludoff thought,
and frowned.

When she had convinced herself that Nekhludoff was in a bad
temper and that one could not get him into an agreeable and
clever conversation, Sophia Vasilievna turned to Kolosoff, asking
his opinion of a new play. She asked it in a tone as if
Kolosoff's opinion would decide all doubts, and each word of this
opinion be worthy of being immortalised. Kolosoff found fault
both with the play and its author, and that led him to express
his views on art. Princess Sophia Vasilievna, while trying at the
same time to defend the play, seemed impressed by the truth of
his arguments, either giving in at once, or at least modifying
her opinion. Nekhludoff looked and listened, but neither saw nor
heard what was going on before him.