the bosom of the earth.

Ten o'clock struck. Marfa Timofyevna went off up-stairs to her own
apartments with Nastasya Karpovna. Lavretsky and Lisa walked across the
room, stopped at the open door into the garden, looked into the darkness
in the distance and then at one another, and smiled. They could have
taken each other's hands, it seemed, and talked to their hearts'
content. They returned to Marya Dmitrievna and Panshin, where a game of
picquet was still dragging on. The last king was called at last, and
the lady of the house rose, sighing and groaning from her well-cushioned
easy chair. Panshin took his hat, kissed Marya Dmitrievna's hand,
remarking that nothing hindered some happy people now from sleeping,
but that he had to sit up over stupid papers till morning, and departed,
bowing coldly to Lisa (he had not expected that she would ask him to
wait so long for an answer to his offer, and he was cross with her for
it). Lavretsky followed him. They parted at the gate. Panshin walked
his! coachman by poking him in the neck with the end of his stick, took
his seat in the carriage and rolled away. Lavretsky did not want to go
home. He walked away from the town into the open country. The night was
still and clear, though there was no moon. Lavretsky rambled a long time
over the dewy grass. He came across a little narrow path; and went along
it. It led him up to a long fence, and to a little gate; he tried, not
knowing why, to push it open. With a faint creak the gate opened, as
though it had been waiting the touch of his hand. Lavretsky went into
the garden. After a few paces along a walk of lime-trees he stopped
short in amazement; he recognised the Kalitins' garden.

He moved at once into a black patch of shade thrown by a thick clump of
hazels, and stood a long while without moving, shrugging his shoulders
in astonishment.

"This cannot be for nothing," he thought.

All was hushed around. From the direction of the house not a sound
reached him. He went cautiously forward. At the bend of an avenue
suddenly the whole house confronted him with its dark face; in two
upstair-windows only a light was shining. In Lisa's room behind the
white curtain a candle was burning, and in Marfa Timofyevna's bedroom a
lamp shone with red-fire before the holy picture, and was reflected with
equal brilliance on the gold frame. Below, the door on to the balcony
gaped wide open. Lavretsky sat down on a wooden garden-seat, leaned on
hi