Katenka was now sixteen years old—quite a grown-up girl; and although at that age the angular figures, the bashfulness, and the gaucherie peculiar¹ to girls passing from childhood to youth usually replace the comely² freshness and graceful³, half-developed bloom of childhood, she had in no way altered. Still the blue eyes with their merry glance were hers, the well-shaped nose with firm nostrils⁴ and almost forming a line with the forehead, the little mouth with its charming smile, the dimples in the rosy⁵ cheeks, and the small white hands. To her, the epithet⁶ of “girl,” pure and simple, was pre-eminently applicable, for in her the only new features were a new and “young-lady-like” arrangement of her thick flaxen hair and a youthful bosom—the latter an addition which at once caused her great joy and made her very bashful.