ment which was perturbing
to pure feeling. He also assumed that the change in Liza had been brought
about by her conflict with herself, by her doubts: what answer should she
give to Panshin? One day she brought him a book, one of Walter Scott's
novels, which she herself had asked of him.

"Have you read this book?"--he asked.

"No; I do not feel in a mood for books now,"--she replied, and turned to
go.

"Wait a minute: I have not been alone with you for a long time. You seem
to be afraid of me."

"Yes."

"Why so, pray?"

"I do not know."

Lavretzky said nothing for a while.

"Tell me,"--he began:--"you have not yet made up your mind?"

"What do you mean by that?"--she said, without raising her eyes.

"You understand me...."

Liza suddenly flushed up.

"Ask me no questions about anything,"--she ejaculated, with vivacity:--"I
know nothing, I do not even know myself...." And she immediately beat a
retreat.

On the following day, Lavretzky arrived at the Kalitins' after dinner,
and found all preparations made to have the All-Night Vigil service held
there. In one corner of the dining-room, on a square table, covered with
a clean cloth, small holy pictures in gold settings, with tiny, dull
brilliants in their halos, were already placed, leaning against the wall.
An old man-servant, in a grey frock-coat and slippers, walked the whole
length of the room in a deliberate manner, and without making any noise
with his heels, and placed two wax tapers in slender candlesticks in
front of the holy images, crossed himself, made a reverence, and softly
withdrew. The unlighted drawing-room was deserted. Lavretzky walked down
the dining-room, and inquired--was it not some one's Name-day? He was
answered, in a whisper, that it was not, but that the Vigil service had
been ordered at the desire of Lizaveta Mikhailovna and Marfa
Timofeevna; that the intention had been to bring thither the
wonder-working _ikona_, but it had gone to a sick person, thirty versts
distant. There soon arrived, also, in company with the chanters, the
priest, a man no longer young, with a small bald spot, who coughed loudly
in the anteroom; the ladies all immediately trooped in single file from
the boudoir, and approached to receive his blessing; Lavretzky saluted
him in silence; and he returned the salute in silence. The priest stood
still for a short time, then cleared his throat again, and asked in a low
tone, with a bass voice:

"Do you comma