warm and still, and the windows were open on both
sides. Lavretsky rode close by the carriage on Liza's side, resting a
hand on the door--he had thrown the reins on the neck of his easily
trotting horse--and now and then exchanged two or three words with the
young girl. The evening glow disappeared. Night came on, but the air
seemed to grow even warmer than before. Maria Dmitrievna soon went to
sleep; the little girls and the maid servant slept also. Smoothly and
rapidly the carriage rolled on. As Liza bent forwards, the moon, which
had only just made its appearance, lighted up her face, the fragrant
night air breathed on her eyes and cheeks, and she felt herself
happy. Her hand rested on the door of the carriage by the side of
Lavretsky's. He too felt himself happy as he floated on in the calm
warmth of the night, never moving his eyes away from the good young
face, listening to the young voice, clear even in its whispers, which
spoke simple, good words.

It even escaped his notice for a time that he had gone more than half
of the way. Then he would not disturb Madame Kalitine, but he pressed
Liza's hand lightly and said, "We are friends now, are we not?" She
nodded assent, and he pulled up his horse. The carriage rolled on its
way quietly swinging and curtseying.

Lavretsky returned home at a walk. The magic of the summer night took
possession of him. All that spread around him seemed so wonderfully
strange, and yet at the same time so well known and so dear. Far and
near all was still--and the eye could see very far, though it could
not distinguish much of what it saw--but underneath that very
stillness a young and flowering life made itself felt.

Lavretsky's horse walked on vigorously, swinging itself steadily to
right and left. Its great black shadow moved by its side. There was a
sort of secret charm in the tramp of its hoofs, something strange and
joyous in the noisy cry of the quails. The stars disappeared in a kind
of luminous mist. The moon, not yet at its full, shone with steady
lustre. Its light spread in a blue stream over the sky, and fell in
a streak of vaporous gold on the thin clouds which went past close at
hand.

The freshness of the air called a slight moisture into Lavretsky's
eyes, passed caressingly over all his limbs, and flowed with free
current into his chest. He was conscious of enjoying, and felt glad
of that enjoyment. "Well, we will live on still; she has not entirely
deprived us--" h