shall fulfill my duty. But you-what does your duty consist in?»
«That I know myself.»
Lavretsky started suddenly.
«You cannot be making up your mind to marry Panshin?» he said.
Lisa gave an almost imperceptible smile.
«Oh, no!» she said.
«Ah, Lisa, Lisa!» cried Lavretsky, «how happy you might have been!»
Lisa looked at him again.
«Now you see yourself, Fedor Ivanitch, that happiness does not depend on us, but on God.»
«Yes, because you—»
The door from the adjoining room opened quickly and Marfa Timofyevna came in with her cap in her hand.
«I have found it at last,» she said, standing between Lavretsky and Lisa; «I had laid it down myself. That’s what age does for one, alack—though youth’s not much better.»
«Well, and are you going to Lavriky yourself with your wife?» she added, turning to Lavretsky.
«To Lavriky with her? I don’t know,» he said, after a moment’s hesitation.
«You are not going down-stairs.»
«To-day,—no, I’m not.»
«Well, well, you know best; but you, Lisa, I think, ought to go down. Ah, merciful powers, I have forgotten to feed my bullfinch. There, stop a minute, I’ll soon—» And Marfa Timofyevna ran off without putting on her cap.
Lavretsky walked quickly up to Lisa.
«Lisa,» he began in a voice of entreaty, «we are parting for ever, my heart is torn,—give me your hand at parting.»
Lisa raised her head, her wearied eyes, their light almost extinct, rested upon him…. «No,» she uttered, and she drew back the hand she was holding out. «No, Lavretsky (it was the first time she had used this name), I will not give you my hand. What is the good? Go away, I beseech you. You know I love you… yes, I love you,» she added with an effort; «but no… no.»
She pressed her handkerchief to her lips.
«Give me, at least, that handkerchief.»
The door creaked… the handkerchief slid on to Lisa’s lap. Lavretsky snatched it before it had time to fall to the floor, thrust it quickly into a side pocket, and turning round met Marfa Timofyevna’s eyes.
«Lisa, darling, I fancy your mother is calling you,» the old lady declared.
Lisa at once got up and went away.
Marfa Timofyevna sat down again in her corner. Lavretsky began to take leave of her.
«Fedor,» she said suddenly.
«What is it?»
«Are you an honest man?»
«What?»
«I ask you, are you an honest man?»
«I hope so.»
«H’m. But give me your word of honour that you will be an honest man.»
«Certainly. But why?»
«I know why. And you too, my dear friend, if you think well, you’re no fool—will understand why I ask it of you. And now, good-bye, my dear. Thanks for your visit; and remember you have given your word, Fedya, and kiss me. Oh, my dear, it’s hard for you, I know; but there, it’s not easy for any one. Once I used to envy the flies; I thought it’s for them it’s good to be alive but one night I heard a fly complaining in a spider’s web—no, I think, they too have their troubles. There’s no help, Fedya; but remember your promise all the same. Good-bye.»
Lavretsky went down the back staircase, and had reached the gates when a man-servant overtook him.
«Marya Dmitrievna told me to ask you to go in to her,» he commenced to Lavretsky.
«Tell her, my boy, that just now I can’t—» Fedor Ivanitch was beginning.
«Her excellency told me to ask you very particularly,» continued the servant. «She gave orders to say she was at home.»
«Have the visitors gone?» asked Lavretsky.
«Certainly, sir,» replied the servant with a grin.
Lavretsky shrugged his shoulders and followed him.
Chapter XLIII
Marya Dmitrievna was sitting alone in her boudoir in an easy-chair, sniffing eau de cologne; a glass of orange-flower-water was standing on a little table near her. She was agitated and seemed nervous.
Lavretsky came in.
«You wanted to see me,» he said, bowing coldly.
«Yes,» replied Marya Dmitrievna, and she sipped a little water: «I heard that you had gone straight up to my aunt; I gave orders that you should be asked to come in; I wanted to have a little talk with you. Sit down, please,» Marya Dmitrievna took breath. «You know,» she went on, «your wife has come.»
«I was aware of that,» remarked Lavretsky.
«Well, then, that is, I wanted to say, she came to me, and I received her; that is what I wanted to explain to you, Fedor Ivanitch. Thank God I have, I may say, gained universal respect, and for no consideration in the world would I do anything improper. Though I foresaw that it would be disagreeable to you, still I could not make up my mind to deny myself to her, Fedor Ivanitch; she is a relation of mine—through you; put yourself in my position, what right had I to shut my doors on her—you will agree with me?»
«You are exciting yourself needlessly, Mary Dmitrievna,» replied Lavretsky; «you acted very well, I am not angry. I have not the least intention of depriving Varvara Pavlovna of the opportunity of seeing her friends; I did not come in to you to-day simply because I did not care to meet her—that was all.»
«Ah, how glad I am to hear you say that, Fedor Ivanitch,» cried Marya Dmitrievna, «but I always expected it of your noble sentiments. And as for my being excited—that’s not to be wondered at; I am a woman and a mother. And your wife… of course I cannot judge between you and her—as I said to her herself; but she is such a delightful woman that she can produce nothing but a pleasant impression.»
Lavretsky gave a laugh and played with his hat.
«And this is what I wanted to say to you besides, Fedor Ivanitch,» continued Marya Dmitrievna, moving slightly nearer up to him, «if you had seen the modesty of her behaviour, how respectful she is! Really, it is quite touching. And if you had heard how she spoke of you! I have been to blame towards him, she said, altogether; I did not know how to appreciate him, she said; he is an angel, she said, and not a man. Really, that is what she said—an angel. Her penitence is such… Ah, upon my word, I have never seen such penitence!»
«Well, Marya Dmitrievna,» observed Lavretsky, «if I may be inquisitive: I am told that Varvara Pavlovna has been singing in your drawing-room; did she sing during the time of her penitence, or how was it?»
«Ah, I wonder you are not ashamed to talk like that! She sang and played the piano only to do me a kindness, because I positively entreated, almost commanded her to do so. I saw that she was sad, so sad; I thought how to distract her mind—and I heard that she had such marvellous talent! I assure you, Fedor Ivanitch, she is utterly crushed, ask Sergei Petrovitch even; a heart-broken woman, tout a fait: what do you say?»
Lavretsky only shrugged his shoulders.
«And then what a little angel is that Adotchka of yours, what a darling! How sweet she is, what a clever little thing; how she speaks French; and understand Russian too—she called me ‘auntie’ in Russian. And you know that as for shyness—almost all children at her age are shy—there’s not a trace of it. She’s so like you, Fedor Ivanitch, it’s amazing. The eyes, the forehead—well, it’s you over again, precisely you. I am not particularly fond of little children, I must own; but I simply lost my heart to your little girl.»
«Marya Dmitrievna,» Lavretsky blurted out suddenly, «allow me to ask you what is your object in talking to me like this?»
«What object?» Marya Dmitrievna sniffed her eau de cologne again, and took a sip of water. «Why, I am speaking to you, Fedor Ivanitch, because—I am a relation of yours, you know, I take the warmest interest in you—I know your heart is of the best. Listen to me, mon cousin. I am at any rate a woman of experience, and I shall not talk at random: forgive her, forgive your wife.» Marya Dmitrievna’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. «Only think: her youth, her inexperience… and who knows, perhaps, bad example; she had not a mother who could bring her up in the right way. Forgive her, Fedor Ivanitch, she has been punished enough.»
The tears were trickling down Marya Dmitrievna’s cheeks: she did not wipe them away, she was fond of weeping. Lavretsky sat as if on thorns. «Good God,» he thought, «what torture, what a day I have had to-day!»
«You make no reply,» Marya Dmitrievna began again. «How am I to understand you? Can you really be so cruel? No, I will not believe it. I feel that my words have influenced you, Fedor Ivanitch. God reward you for your goodness, and now receive your wife from my hands.»
Involuntarily Lavretsky jumped up from his chair; Marya Dmitrievna also rose and running quickly behind a screen, she led forth Varvara Pavlovna. Pale, almost lifeless, with downcast eyes, she seemed to have renounced all thought, all will of her own, and to have surrendered herself completely to Marya Dmitrievna.
Lavretsky stepped back a pace.
«You have been here all the time!» he cried.
«Do not blame her,» explained Marya Dmitrievna; «she was most unwilling to stay, but I forced her to remain. I put her behind the screen. She assured me that this would only anger you more; I would not even listen to her; I know you better than she does. Take your wife back from my hands; come, Varya, do not fear, fall at your husband’s feet (she gave a pull at her arm) and my blessing»…
«Stop a minute, Marya Dmitrievna,» said Lavretsky in a low but startlingly impressive voice. «I dare say you
