s elbow, and began to watch this door and Lisa's window. In the town
it struck midnight; a little clock in the house shrilly clanged
out twelve; the watchman beat it with jerky strokes upon his board.
Lavretsky had no thought, no expectation; it was sweet to him to feel
himself near Lisa, to sit in her garden on the seat where she herself
had sat more than once.

The light in Lisa's room vanished.

"Sleep well, my sweet girl," whispered Lavretsky, still sitting
motionless, his eyes fixed on the darkened window.

Suddenly the light appeared in one of the windows of the ground-floor,
then changed into another, and a third.... Some one was walking through
the rooms with a candle. "Can it be Lisa? It cannot be." Lavretsky got
up.... He caught a glimpse of a well-known face--Lisa came into
the drawing-room. In a white gown, her plaits hanging loose on her
shoulders, she went quietly up to the table, bent over it, put down the
candle, and began looking for something. Then turning round facing the
garden, she drew near the open door, and stood on the threshold, a light
slender figure all in white. A shiver passed over Lavretsky.

"Lisa!" broke hardly audibly from his lips.

She started and began to gaze into the darkness.

"Lisa!" Lavretsky repeated louder, and he came out of the shadow of the
avenue.

Lisa raised her head in alarm, and shrank back. She had recognised him.
He called to her a third time, and stretched out his hands to her. She
came away from the door and stepped into the garden.

"Is it you?" she said. "You here?"

"I--I--listen to me," whispered Lavretsky, and seizing her hand he led
her to the seat.

She followed him without resistance, her pale face, her fixed eyes, and
all her gestures expressed an unutterable bewilderment. Lavretsky made
her sit down and stood before her.

"I did not mean to come here," he began. "Something brought me.... I--I
love you," he uttered in involuntary terror.

Lisa slowly looked at him. It seemed as though she only at that instant
knew where she was and what was happening. She tried to get up, she
could no, and she covered her face with her hands.

"Lisa," murmured Lavretsky. "Lisa," he repeated, and fell at her feet.

Her shoulders began to heave slightly; the fingers of her pale hands
were pressed more closely to her face.

"What is it?" Lavretsky urged, and he heard a subdued sob. His heart
stood still.... He knew the meaning of those tears. "Can it be that