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