Book 1 Chapter 54 Prisoners and Friends

Beside them was a short-haired, stout, rosy girl, with very
prominent eyes, dressed in a grey dress and a cape; she sat
beside the weeping mother, tenderly stroking her. Everything
about this girl was beautiful; her large, white hands, her short,
wavy hair, her firm nose and lips, but the chief charm of her
face lay in her kind, truthful hazel eyes. The beautiful eyes
turned away from the mother for a moment when Nekhludoff came in,
and met his look. But she turned back at once and said something
to the mother.

Not far from the lovers a dark, dishevelled man, with a gloomy
face, sat angrily talking to a beardless visitor, who looked as
if he belonged to the Scoptsy sect.

At the very door stood a young man in a rubber jacket, who seemed
more concerned about the impression he produced on the onlooker
than about what he was saying. Nekhludoff, sitting by the
inspector's side, looked round with strained curiosity. A little
boy with closely-cropped hair came up to him and addressed him in
a thin little voice.

"And whom are you waiting for?"

Nekhludoff was surprised at the question, but looking at the boy,
and seeing the serious little face with its bright, attentive
eyes fixed on him, answered him seriously that he was waiting for
a woman of his acquaintance.

"Is she, then, your sister?" the boy asked.

"No, not my sister," Nekhludoff answered in surprise.

"And with whom are you here?" he inquired of the boy.

"I? With mamma; she is a political one," he replied.