even severe. One of her serious eyes squinted, and those two

strange eyes for some time gazed at Nekhludoff, who, in spite of

the terrors that seized him, could not take his look off these

squinting eyes, with their bright, clear whites.

He thought of that dreadful night, with its mist, the ice

breaking on the river below, and when the waning moon, with horns

turned upwards, that had risen towards morning, lit up something

black and weird. These two black eyes now looking at him reminded