Marya Dmitrievna did not receive Lavretzky with any excess of
cordiality, when he presented himself on the following day. "Well, you
are making yourself pretty free of the house,"--she said to herself.
Personally, he did not greatly please her, and, in addition, Panshin,
under whose influence she was, had sung his praises in a very sly and
careless manner on the preceding evening. As she did not look upon him in
the light of a guest, and did not consider it necessary to trouble
herself about a relative almost a member of the family, half an hour had
not elapsed before he was strolling down an alley in the garden with
Liza. Lyenotchka and Schurotchka were frolicking a short distance away,
among the flower-beds.
Liza was composed, as usual, but paler than usual. She took from her
pocket and handed to Lavretzky the sheet of newspaper, folded small.
"This is dreadful!"--said she.
Lavretzky made no reply.
"But perhaps it is not yet true,"--added Liza.
"That is why I asked you not to mention it to any one."
Liza walked on a little way.
"Tell me,"--she began:--"you are not grieved? Not in the least?"
"I do not know myself what my feelings are,"--replied Lavretzky.
"But, assuredly, you used to love her?"
"Yes, I did."
"Very much?"
"Very much."
"And you are not grieved by her death?"
"It is not now that she has died to me."
"What you say is sinful.... Do not be angry with me. You call me your
friend: a friend may say anything. To tell the truth, I feel
terrified.... Your face was so malign yesterday.... Do you remember, how
you were complaining of her, not long ago?--and perhaps, already, at that
very time, she was no longer alive. This is terrible. It is exactly as
though it had been sent to you as a chastisement."
Lavretzky laughed bitterly.
"Do you think so?... At all events, I am free now."
Liza gave a slight start.
"Stop, do not talk like that. Of what use to you is your freedom? You
must not think about that now, but about forgiveness...."
"I forgave her long ago,"--interrupted Lavretzky, with a wave of the
hand.
"No, not that,"--returned Liza, and blushed. "You did not understand me
rightly. You must take means to obtain forgiveness...."
"Who is there to forgive me?"
"Who?--God. Who else but God can forgive us?"
Lavretzky caught her hand.
"Akh, Lizaveta Mikhailovna, believe me,"--he exclaimed:--"I have been
sufficiently punished as it is. I have already atoned for everything,
believe me."
"You cannot know that,"--said Liza in a low voice. "You have
forgotten;--not very long ago,--when you were talking to me,--you were
not willing to forgive her...."
The two walked silently down the alley.
"And how about your daughter?"--Liza suddenly inquired, and halted.
Lavretzky started.
"Oh, do not worry yourself! I have already despatched letters to all the
proper places. The future of my daughter, as you call ... as you say ...
is assured. Do not disquiet yourself."
Liza smiled sadly.
"But you are right,"--went on Lavretzky:--"what can I do with my
freedom? Of what use is it to me?"
"When did you receive that newspaper?"--said Liza, making no reply to his
question.
"The day after your visit."
"And is it possible ... is it possible that you did not even weep?"
"No. I was stunned; but where were the tears to come from? Weep over the
past,--but, you see, it is entirely extirpated in my case!... Her
behaviour itself did not destroy my happiness, but merely proved to me
that it had never existed. What was there to cry about? But, who
knows?--perhaps I should have been more grieved if I had received this
news two weeks earlier...."
"Two weeks?"--returned Liza. "But what has happened in those two weeks?"
Lavretzky made no answer, and Liza suddenly blushed more furiously than
before.
"Yes, yes, you have guessed it,"--interposed Lavretzky:--"in the course
of those two weeks I have learned what a pure woman's soul is like, and
my past has retreated still further from me."
Liza became confused, and softly walked toward the flower-garden, to
Lyenotchka and Schurotchka.
"And I am glad that I have shown you this newspaper,"--said Lavretzky,
as he followed her:--"I have already contracted the habit of concealing
nothing from you, and I hope that you will repay me with the same
confidence."
"Do you think so?"--said Liza, and stopped short. "In that case, I ought
to ... but no! That is impossible."
"What is it? Speak, speak!"
"Really, it seems to me that I ought not.... However," added Liza, and
turned to Lavretzky with a smile:--"what is half-frankness worth?--Do
you know? I received a letter to-day."
"From Panshin?"
"Yes, from him.... How did you know?"
"He asks your hand?"
"Yes,"--uttered Liza, and looked seriously in Lavretzky's eyes.
Lavretzky, in his turn, gazed seriously at Liza.
"Well, and what reply have you made to him?"--he said at last.
"I do not know what reply to make,"--replied Liza, and dropped her
clasped hands.
"What? Surely, you like him?"
"Yes, he pleases me; he seems to be a nice man...."
"You said the same thing to me, in those very same words, three days ago.
What I want to know is, whether you love him with that strong, passionate
feeling which we are accustomed to call love?"
"As _you_ understand it,--no."
"You are not in love with him?"
"No. But is that necessary?"
"Of course it is!"
"Mamma likes him,"--pursued Liza:--"he is amiable; I have nothing against
him."
"Still, you are wavering?"
"Yes ... and perhaps,--your words may be the cause of it. Do you remember
what you said day before yesterday? But that weakness...."
"Oh, my child!"--suddenly exclaimed Lavretzky--and his voice
trembled:--"do not argue artfully, do not designate as weakness the cry
of your heart, which does not wish to surrender itself without love. Do
not take upon yourself that terrible responsibility toward a man whom you
do not love and to whom you do not wish to belong...."
"I am listening,--I am taking nothing upon myself ..." Liza was
beginning.
"Listen to your heart; it alone will tell you the truth,"--Lavretzky
interrupted her.... "Experience, reasoning--all that is stuff and
nonsense! Do not deprive yourself of the best, the only happiness on
earth."
"Is it you, Feodor Ivanitch, who are speaking thus? You, yourself,
married for love--and were you happy?"
Lavretzky wrung his hands.
"Akh, do not talk to me of that! You cannot even understand all that a
young, untried, absurdly educated lad can mistake for love!... Yes, and
in short, why calumniate one's self? I just told you, that I had not
known happiness ... no! I was happy!"
"It seems to me, Feodor Ivanitch,"--said Liza, lowering her voice (when
she did not agree with her interlocutor, she always lowered her voice;
and, at the same time, she became greatly agitated):--"happiness on earth
does not depend upon us...."
"It does, it does depend upon us, believe me," (he seized both her hands;
Liza turned pale, and gazed at him almost in terror, but with
attention):--"if only we have not ruined our own lives. For some people,
a love-marriage may prove unhappy; but not for you, with your calm
temperament, with your clear soul! I entreat you, do not marry without
love, from a sense of duty, of renunciation, or anything else.... That,
also, is want of faith, that is calculation,--and even worse. Believe
me,--I have a right to speak thus: I have paid dearly for that right. And
if your God...."
At that moment, Lavretzky noticed that Lyenotchka and Schurotchka were
standing beside Liza, and staring at him with dumb amazement. He released
Liza's hands, said hastily: "Pray pardon me,"--and walked toward the
house.
"I have only one request to make of you,"--he said, returning to
Liza:--"do not decide instantly, wait, think over what I have said to
you. Even if you have not believed me, if you have made up your mind to a
marriage of reason,--even in that case, you ought not to marry Mr.
Panshin: he cannot be your husband.... Promise me, will you not, not to
be in a hurry?"
Liza tried to answer Lavretzky, but did not utter a word,--not because
she had made up her mind "to be in a hurry"; but because her heart was
beating too violently, and a sensation resembling fear had stopped her
breath.