those qualities to what I was thinking at the moment?

“The priest is here, so please come downstairs and hear his directions,” said Nicola as he entered.

Hurriedly concealing my folio under the table-cloth, I looked at myself in the mirror, combed my hair upwards (I imagined this to give me a pensive air), and descended to the divannaia, [Room with divans, or ante-room] where the table stood covered with a cloth and had an ikon and candles placed upon it. Papa entered just as I did, but by another door: whereupon the priest — a grey-headed old monk with a severe, elderly face — blessed him, and Papa kissed his small, squat, wizened hand.

I did the same.

“Go and call Woldemar,”