ned swiftly, and Marfa Timofeevna
entered, with her cap in her hand.

"I have found it at last,"--she said, taking up her stand between
Lavretzky and Liza.--"I had mislaid it myself. That's what it is to be
old, alack! However, youth is no better. Well, and art thou going to
Lavriki thyself, with thy wife?"--she added, addressing Feodor
Ivanitch.

"With her, to Lavriki?--I do not know,"--he said, after a pause.

"Thou art not going down-stairs?"

"Not to-day."

"Well, very good, as it pleases thee; but I think thou shouldst go
down-stairs, Liza. Akh, gracious goodness!--and I have forgotten to give
the bullfinch his food. Just wait, I'll be back directly...."

And Marfa Timofeevna ran out of the room, without putting on her cap.

Lavretzky went quickly up to Liza.

"Liza,"--he began in a beseeching voice:--"we are parting forever, my
heart is breaking,--give me your hand in farewell."

Liza raised her head. Her weary, almost extinct gaze rested on him....

"No,"--she said, and drew back the hand which she had already put
forward--"no. Lavretzky"--(she called him thus, for the first time)--"I
will not give you my hand. To what end? Go away, I entreat you. You know
that I love you,"--she added, with an effort:--"but no ... no."

And she raised her handkerchief to her eyes.

The door creaked.... The handkerchief slipped off Liza's knees.
Lavretzky caught it before it fell to the floor, hastily thrust it into
his side pocket, and, turning round, his eyes met those of Marfa
Timofeevna.

"Lizotchka, I think thy mother is calling thee,"--remarked the old
woman.

Liza immediately rose, and left the room.

Marfa Timofeevna sat down again in her corner. Lavretzky began to take
leave of her.

"Fedya,"--she suddenly said.

"What, aunty?"

"Art thou an honourable man?"

"What?"

"I ask thee: art thou an honourable man?"

"I hope so."

"H'm. But give me thy word of honour that thou art an honourable man."

"Certainly.--But why?"

"I know why. Yes, and thou also, my benefactor, if thou wilt think it over
well,--for thou art not stupid,--wilt understand thyself why I ask this of
thee. And now, farewell, my dear. Thanks for thy visit; and remember the
word that has been spoken, Fedya, and kiss me. Okh, my soul, it is hard
for thee, I know: but then, life is not easy for any one. That is why I
used to envy the flies; here, I thought, is something that finds life
good; but once, in the night, I heard a fly