. So bitter a grief showed
itself in his face and in all his gestures, that Lavretsky went up to
him and asked him what was the matter. The peasant sank back with an
air of distrust; then, looking at him coldly, said in a hurried voice,
"My son is dead," and again betook himself to his prostrations.

"What sorrow can they have too great to defy the consolations of the
Church?" thought Lavretsky, and he tried to pray himself. But his
heart seemed heavy and hardened, and his thoughts were afar off. He
kept waiting for Liza; but Liza did not come. The church gradually
filled with people, but he did not see Liza among them. Mass began,
the deacon read the Gospel, the bell sounded for the final prayer.
Lavretsky advanced a few steps, and suddenly he caught sight of Liza.
She had come in before him, but he had not observed her till now.
Standing in the space between the wall and the choir, to which she had
pressed as close as possible, she never once looked round, never moved
from her place. Lavretsky did not take his eyes off her till the
service was quite finished; he was bidding her a last farewell. The
congregation began to disperse, but she remained standing there. She
seemed to be waiting for Lavretsky to go away. At last, however, she
crossed herself for the last time, and went out without turning round.
No one but a maid-servant was with her.

Lavretsky followed her out of the church, and came up with her in the
street. She was walking very fast, her head drooping, her veil pulled
low over her face.

"Good-day, Lizaveta Mikhailovna," he said in a loud voice, with
feigned indifference. "May I accompany you?"

She made no reply. He walked on by her side.

"Are you satisfied with me?" he asked, lowering his voice. "You have
heard what took place yesterday, I suppose?"

"Yes, yes," she answered in a whisper; "that was very good;" and she
quickened her pace.

"Then you are satisfied?"

Liza only made a sign of assent.

"Fedor Ivanovich," she began, presently, in a calm but feeble voice,
"I wanted to ask you something. Do not come any more to our house. Go
away soon. We may see each other by-and-by--some day or other--a year
hence, perhaps. But now, do this for my sake. In God's name, I beseech
you, do what I ask!"

"I am ready to obey you in every thing, Lizaveta Mikhailovna. But can
it be that we must part thus? Is it possible that you will not say a
single word to me?"

"Fedor Ivanovich, you are walking he