emotion; her red eyes gazed fixedly upward at the holy picture on
the ikonostasis; her bony hand kept incessantly emerging from under her
cloak, and slowly but vigorously made a great, sweeping sign of the cross.
A peasant, with a thick beard and a surly face, tousled and dishevelled,
entered the church, went down at once on both knees, and immediately set
to crossing himself, hastily flinging back his head and shaking it after
every prostration. Such bitter woe was depicted on his countenance, and in
all his movements, that Lavretzky made up his mind to approach and ask
him what was the matter. The peasant started back timidly and roughly, and
looked at him.... "My son is dead,"--he said, in hasty accents--and again
began to prostrate himself to the floor. "What can take the place, for
them, of the consolation of the church?"--Lavretzky thought,--and tried
to pray himself; but his heart had grown heavy and hard, and his thoughts
were far away. He was still expecting Liza--but Liza did not come. The
church began to fill with people; still she did not come. The Liturgy
began, the deacon had already read the Gospel, the bell had pealed for the
hymn "Worthy"; Lavretzky moved a little,--and suddenly caught sight of
Liza. She had arrived before him, but he had not descried her; crowded
into the space between the wall and the choir, she neither glanced around
nor moved. Lavretzky did not take his eyes from her until the very end of
the Liturgy: he was bidding her farewell. The congregation began to
disperse, but she still stood on; she seemed to be awaiting Lavretzky's
departure. At last, she crossed herself for the last time, and went away,
without looking round; she had only a maid with her. Lavretzky followed
her out of the church, and overtook her in the street; she was walking
very rapidly, with her head bowed and her veil lowered over her face.

"Good morning, Lizaveta Mikhailovna,"--said he, loudly, with forced
ease:--"may I accompany you?"

She said nothing; he walked along by her side.

"Are you satisfied with me?"--he asked her, lowering his voice.--"You
have heard what took place last night?"

"Yes, yes,"--she said in a whisper:--"you did well."

And she walked on faster than ever.

"You are satisfied?"

Liza only nodded her head.

"Feodor Ivanitch,"--she began, in a composed, but weak voice:--"I have
wanted to ask you: do not come to our house again; go away as speedily as
possible; we can see each other