t down, sit down; my own legs haven't given out yet. I must have left
it yonder, in my bedroom."

And, casting a sidelong glance at Lavretzky, Marfa Timofeevna left the
room. She was on the point of leaving the door open, but suddenly turned
round toward it, and shut it.

Liza leaned against the back of her chair, and gently lifted her hands to
her face; Lavretzky remained standing, as he was.

"This is how we were to meet again,"--he said, at last.

Liza took her hands from her face.

"Yes,"--she said dully:--"we were promptly punished."

"Punished?"--said Lavretzky. "But what were you punished for?"

Liza raised her eyes to him. They expressed neither grief nor anxiety:
they looked smaller and dimmer. Her face was pale; her slightly parted
lips had also grown pale.

Lavretzky's heart shuddered with pity and with love.

"You wrote to me: 'All is at an end,'"--he whispered:--"Yes, all is at an
end--before it has begun."

"We must forget all that,"--said Liza:--"I am glad that you came; I
wanted to write to you, but it is better thus. Only, we must make use, as
promptly as possible, of these minutes. It remains for both of us to do
our duty. You, Feodor Ivanitch, ought to become reconciled to your
wife."

"Liza!"

"I implore you to do it; in that way alone can we expiate ... everything
which has taken place. Think it over--and you will not refuse me."

"Liza, for God's sake,--you are demanding the impossible. I am ready to
do everything you command; but become reconciled to her _now_!... I agree
to everything, I have forgotten everything; but I cannot force my heart
to.... Have mercy, this is cruel!"

"I do not require from you ... what you think; do not live with her, if
you cannot; but become reconciled,"--replied Liza, and again raised her
hand to her eyes.--"Remember your little daughter; do this for me."

"Very well,"--said Lavretzky, through his teeth:--"I will do it; let us
assume that thereby I am fulfilling my duty. Well, and you--in what does
your duty consist?"

"I know what it is."

Lavretzky suddenly started.

"Surely, you are not preparing to marry Panshin?"--he asked.

Liza smiled almost imperceptibly.

"Oh, no!"--she said.

"Akh, Liza, Liza!"--cried Lavretzky:--"how happy we might have been!"

Again Liza glanced at him.

"Now you see yourself, Feodor Ivanitch, that happiness does not depend
upon us, but upon God."

"Yes, because you...."

The door of the adjoining room ope