are fond of affecting scenes» (Lavretsky was right, Marya Dmitrievna still retained her school-girl’s passion for a little melodramatic effect), «they amuse you; but they may be anything but pleasant for other people. But I am not going to talk to you; in this scene you are not the principal character. What do you want to get out of me, madam?» he added, turning to his wife. «Haven’t I done all I could for you? Don’t tell me you did not contrive this interview; I shall not believe you—and you know that I cannot possibly believe you. What is it you want? You are clever—you do nothing without an object. You must realise, that as for living with, as I once lived with you, that I cannot do; not because I am angry with you, but because I have become a different man. I told you so the day after your return, and you yourself, at that moment, agreed with me in your! heart. But you want to reinstate yourself in public opinion; it is not enough for you to live in my house, you want to live with me under the same roof—isn’t that it?»

«I want your forgiveness,» pronounced Varvara Pavlovna, not raising her eyes.

«She wants your forgiveness,» repeated Marya Dmitrievna.

«And not for my own sake, but for Ada’s,» murmured Varvara Pavlovna.

«And not for her own sake, but for your Ada’s,» repeated Marya Dmitrievna.

«Very good. Is that what you want?» Lavretsky uttered with an effort. «Certainly, I consent to that too.»

Varvara Pavlovna darted a swift glance at him, but Marya Dmitrievna cried: «There, God be thanked!» and again drew Varvara Pavlvona forward by the arm. «Take her now from my arms—»

«Stop a minute, I tell you,» Lavretsky interrupted her, «I agree to live with you, Varvara Pavlovna,» he continued, «that is to say, I will conduct you to Lavriky, and I will live there with you, as long as I can endure it, and then I will go away—and will come back again. You see, I do not want to deceive you; but do not demand anything more. You would laugh yourself if I were to carry out the desire of our respected cousin, were to press you to my breast, and to fall to assuring you that … that the past had not been; and the felled tree can bud again. But I see, I must submit. You will not understand these words… but that’s no matter. I repeat, I will live with you… or no, I cannot promise that… I will be reconciled with you, I will regard you as my wife again.»

«Give her, at least your hand on it,» observed Marya Dmitrievna, whose tears had long since dried up.

«I have never deceived Varvara Pavlovna hitherto,» returned Lavretsky; «she will believe me without that. I will take her to Lavriky; and remember, Varvara Pavlovna, our treaty is to be reckoned as broken directly you go away from Lavriky. And now allow me to take leave.»

He bowed to both the ladies, and hurriedly went away.

«Are you not going to take her with you!» Marya Dmitrievna cried after him…. «Leave him alone,» Varvara Pavlovna whispered to her. And at once she embraced her, and began thanking her, kissing her hands and calling her saviour.

Marya Dmitrievna received her caresses indulgently; but at heart she was discontented with Lavretsky, with Varvara Pavlovna, and with the whole scene she had prepared. Very little sentimentality had come of it; Varvara Pavlovna, in her opinion, ought to have flung herself at her husband’s feet.

«How was it you didn’t understand me?» she commented: «I kept saying ‘down.'»

«It is better as it was, dear auntie; do not be uneasy—it was all for the best,» Varvara Pavlovna assured her.

«Well, any way, he’s as cold as ice,» observed Marya Dmitrievna. «You didn’t weep, it is true, but I was in floods of tears before his eyes. He wants to shut you up at Lavriky. Why, won’t you even be able to come and see me? All men are unfeeling,» she concluded, with a significant shake of the head.

«But then women can appreciate goodness and noble-heartedness,» said Varvara Pavlovna, and gently dropping on her knees before Marya Dmitrievna, she flung her arms about her round person, and pressed her face against it. That face wore a sly smile, but Marya Dmitrievna’s tears began to flow again.

When Lavretsky returned home, he locked himself in his valet’s room, and flung himself on a sofa; he lay like that till morning.

Chapter XLIV

The following day was Sunday. The sound of bells ringing for early mass did not wake Lavretsky—he had not closed his eyes all night—but it reminded him of another Sunday, when at Lisa’s desire he had gone to church. He got up hastily; some secret voice told him that he would see her there to-day. He went noiselessly out of the house, leaving a message for Varvara Pavlovna that he would be back to dinner, and with long strides he made his way in the direction in which the monotonously mournful bells were calling him. He arrived early; there was scarcely any one in the church; a deacon was reading the service in the chair; the measured drone of his voice—sometimes broken by a cough—fell and rose at even intervals. Lavretsky placed himself not far from the entrance. Worshippers came in one by one, stopped, crossed themselves, and bowed in all directions; their steps rang out in the empty, silent church, echoing back distinctly under the arched roof. An infirm poor little old woman in a worn-out cloak with a hood was on her knees near Lavretsky, praying assiduously; her toothless, yellow, wrinkled face expressed intense emotion; her red eyes were gazing fixedly upwards at the holy figures on the iconostasis; her bony hand was constantly coming out from under her cloak, and slowly and earnestly making a great sign of the cross. A peasant with a bushy beard and a surly face, dishevelled and unkempt, came into the church, and at once fell on both knees, and began directly crossing himself in haste, bending back his head with a shake after each prostration. Such bitter grief was expressed in his face, and in all his actions, that Lavretsky made up his mind to go up to him and ask him what was wrong. The peasant timidly and morosely started back, looked at him…. «My son is dead,» he articulated quickly, and again fell to bowing to the earth. «What could replace the consolations of the Church to them?» thought Lavretsky; and he tried! himself to pray, but his heart was hard and heavy, and his thoughts were far away. He kept expecting Lisa, but Lisa did not come. The church began to be full of people; but still she was not there. The service commenced, the deacon had already read the gospel, they began ringing for the last prayer; Lavretsky moved a little forward—and suddenly caught sight of Lisa. She had com before him, but he had not seen her; she was hidden in a recess between the wall and the choir, and neither moved nor looked round. Lavretsky did not take his eyes off he till the very end of the service; he was saying farewell to her. The people began to disperse, but she still remained; it seemed as though she were waiting for Lavretsky to go out. At last she crossed herself for the last time and went out—there was only a maid with her—not turning round. Lavretsky went out of the church after her and overtook her in the street; she was walking very quickly, with downcast head, and a veil over her face.

«Good-morning, Lisaveta Mihalovna,» he said aloud with assumed carelessness: «may I accompany you?»

She made no reply; he walked beside her.

«Are you content with me?» he asked her, dropping his voice. «Have you heard what happened yesterday?»

«Yes, yes,» she replied in a whisper, «that was well.» And she went still more quickly.

«Are you content?»

Lisa only bent her head in assent.

«Fedor Ivanitch,» she began in a calm but faint voice, «I wanted to beg you not to come to see us any more; go away as soon as possible, we may see each other again later—sometime—in a year. But now, do this for my sake; fulfil my request, for God’s sake.»

«I am ready to obey you in everything, Lisaveta Mihalovna; but are we really to part like this? will you not say one word to me?»

«Fedor Ivanitch, you are walking near me now…. But already you are so far from me. And not only you, but—»

«Speak out, I entreat you!» cried Lavretsky, «what do you mean?»

«You will hear perhaps… but whatever it may be, forget… no, do not forget; remember me.»

«Me forget you—»

«That’s enough, good-bye. Do not come after me.»

«Lisa!» Lavretsky was beginning.

«Good-bye, good-bye!» she repeated, pulling her veil still lower and almost running forward. Lavretsky looked after her, and with bowed head, turned back along the street. He stumbled up against Lemm, who was also walking along with his eyes on the ground, and his hat pulled down to his nose.

They looked at one another without speaking.

«Well, what have you to say?» Lavretsky brought out at last.

«What have I to say?» returned Lemm, grimly. «I have nothing to say. All is dead, and we are dead (Alles ist todt, und wir sind todt). So you’re going to the right, are you?»

«Yes.»

«And I go to the left. Good-bye.»

The following morning Fedor Ivanitch set off with his wife for Lavriky. She drove in front in the carriage with Ada and Justine; he behind, in the coach.