d not even smile, and only
wrapped himself more closely in his dressing-gown.

"You see, you do not know,"--went on Lavretzky:--"I imagined ... I read
in a newspaper, that she was no longer alive."

"O--o, you read that a short time ago?"--asked Lemm.

"Yes."

"O--o,"--repeated the old man, and elevated his eyebrows.--"And she has
arrived?"

"Yes. She is now at my house; but I ... I am an unhappy man."

And again he broke into a laugh.

"You are an unhappy man,"--repeated Lemm, slowly.

"Christofor Feodoritch,"--began Lavretzky:--"will you undertake to
deliver a note?"

"H'm. May I inquire, to whom?"

"To Liza...."

"Ah,--yes, yes, I understand. Very well. But when must the note be
delivered?"

"To-morrow, as early as possible."

"H'm. I can send Katrina, my cook. No, I will go myself."

"And will you bring me the answer?"

"Yes, I will."

Lemm sighed.

"Yes, my poor young friend; you really are--an unhappy man."

Lavretzky wrote a couple of words to Liza: he informed her of his wife's
arrival, begged her to appoint a meeting,--and flung himself on the
narrow divan, face to the wall; and the old man lay down on the bed, and
tossed about for a long time, coughing and taking sips of his decoction.

Morning came: they both rose. With strange eyes they gazed at each other.
Lavretzky wanted to kill himself at that moment. The cook, Katrina,
brought them some bad coffee. The clock struck eight. Lemm put on his
hat, and saying that he had a lesson to give at the Kalitins' at nine,
but that he would find a decent pretext, set out. Lavretzky again flung
himself on the little couch, and again, from the depths of his soul, a
sorrowful laugh welled up. He thought of how his wife had driven him out
of his house; he pictured to himself Liza's position, closed his eyes,
and threw his hands behind his head. At last Lemm returned, and brought
him a scrap of paper, on which Liza had scrawled with pencil the
following words: "We cannot see each other to-day; perhaps--to-morrow
evening. Farewell." Lavretzky quietly and abstractedly thanked Lemm, and
went to his own house.

He found his wife at breakfast; Ada, all curls, in a white frock with
blue ribbons, was eating a mutton chop. Varvara Pavlovna immediately
rose, as soon as Lavretzky entered the room, and approached him, with
humility depicted on her face. He requested her to follow him to his
study, locked the door behind him, and began to stride to and fro; s