a duty to fulfil.
You, Fedor Ivanovich, must become reconciled with your wife."

"Liza!"

"I entreat you to let it be so. By this alone can expiation be made
for--for all that has taken place. Think over it, and then you will
not refuse my request."

"Liza! for God's sake! You ask what is impossible. I am ready to do
every thing you tell me; but to be reconciled with her _now_!--I
consent to every thing, I have forgotten every thing; but I cannot do
violence to my heart. Have some pity; this is cruel!"

"But I do not ask you to do what is impossible. Do not live with her
if you really cannot do so. But be reconciled with her," answered
Liza, once more hiding her face in her hands. "Remember your daughter;
and, besides, do it for my sake."

"Very good," said Lavretsky between his teeth. "Suppose I do this--in
this I shall be fulfilling my duty; well, but you--in what does your
duty consist?"

"That I know perfectly well."

Lavretsky suddenly shuddered.

"Surely you have not made up your mind to many Panshine?" he asked.

"Oh, no!" replied Liza, with an almost imperceptible smile.

"Ah! Liza, Liza!" exclaimed Lavretsky, "how happy we might have been!"

Liza again looked up at him.

"Now even you must see, Fedor Ivanovich, that happiness does not
depend upon ourselves, but upon God."

"Yes, because you--"

The door of the next room suddenly opened, and Marfa Timofeevna came
in, holding her cap in her hand.

"I had trouble enough to find it," she said, standing between Liza and
Lavretsky; "I had stuffed it away myself. Dear me, see what old age
comes to! But, after all, youth is no better. Well, are you going to
Lavriki with your wife?" she added, turning to Fedor Ivanovich.

"To Lavriki with her? I?--I don't know," he added, after a short
pause.

"Won't you pay a visit down stairs?"

"Not to-day."

"Well, very good; do as you please. But you, Liza, ought to go
down-stairs, I think. Ah! my dears. I've forgotten to give any seed to
my bullfinch too. Wait a minute; I will be back directly."

And Marfa Timofeevna ran out of the room without even having put on
her cap.

Lavretsky quickly drew near to Liza.

"Liza," he began, with an imploring voice, "we are about to part for
ever, and my heart is very heavy. Give me your hand at parting."

Liza raised her head. Her wearied, almost lustre less eyes looked at
him steadily.

"No," she said, and drew back the hand she had half held out to him.
"No