A Nobleman's Nest Part 13

"Who is there to forgive me?"

"Who?--G.o.d. Who else but G.o.d can forgive us?"

Lavretzky caught her hand.

"Akh, Lizaveta Mikhailovna, believe me,"--he exclaimed:--"I have been sufficiently punished as it is. I have already atoned for everything, believe me."

"You cannot know that,"--said Liza in a low voice. "You have forgotten;--not very long ago,--when you were talking to me,--you were not willing to forgive her...."

The two walked silently down the alley.

"And how about your daughter?"--Liza suddenly inquired, and halted.

Lavretzky started.

"Oh, do not worry yourself! I have already despatched letters to all the proper places. The future of my daughter, as you call ... as you say ...

is a.s.sured. Do not disquiet yourself."

Liza smiled sadly.

"But you are right,"--went on Lavretzky:--"what can I do with my freedom? Of what use is it to me?"

"When did you receive that newspaper?"--said Liza, making no reply to his question.

"The day after your visit."

"And is it possible ... is it possible that you did not even weep?"

"No. I was stunned; but where were the tears to come from? Weep over the past,--but, you see, it is entirely extirpated in my case!... Her behaviour itself did not destroy my happiness, but merely proved to me that it had never existed. What was there to cry about? But, who knows?--perhaps I should have been more grieved if I had received this news two weeks earlier...."

"Two weeks?"--returned Liza. "But what has happened in those two weeks?"

Lavretzky made no answer, and Liza suddenly blushed more furiously than before.

"Yes, yes, you have guessed it,"--interposed Lavretzky:--"in the course of those two weeks I have learned what a pure woman's soul is like, and my past has retreated still further from me."

Liza became confused, and softly walked toward the flower-garden, to Lyenotchka and Schurotchka.

"And I am glad that I have shown you this newspaper,"--said Lavretzky, as he followed her:--"I have already contracted the habit of concealing nothing from you, and I hope that you will repay me with the same confidence."

"Do you think so?"--said Liza, and stopped short. "In that case, I ought to ... but no! That is impossible."

"What is it? Speak, speak!"

"Really, it seems to me that I ought not.... However," added Liza, and turned to Lavretzky with a smile:--"what is half-frankness worth?--Do you know? I received a letter to-day."

"From Pans.h.i.+n?"

"Yes, from him.... How did you know?"

"He asks your hand?"

"Yes,"--uttered Liza, and looked seriously in Lavretzky's eyes.

Lavretzky, in his turn, gazed seriously at Liza.

"Well, and what reply have you made to him?"--he said at last.

"I do not know what reply to make,"--replied Liza, and dropped her clasped hands.

"What? Surely, you like him?"

"Yes, he pleases me; he seems to be a nice man...."

"You said the same thing to me, in those very same words, three days ago.

What I want to know is, whether you love him with that strong, pa.s.sionate feeling which we are accustomed to call love?"

"As _you_ understand it,--no."

"You are not in love with him?"

"No. But is that necessary?"

"Of course it is!"

"Mamma likes him,"--pursued Liza:--"he is amiable; I have nothing against him."

"Still, you are wavering?"

"Yes ... and perhaps,--your words may be the cause of it. Do you remember what you said day before yesterday? But that weakness...."

"Oh, my child!"--suddenly exclaimed Lavretzky--and his voice trembled:--"do not argue artfully, do not designate as weakness the cry of your heart, which does not wish to surrender itself without love. Do not take upon yourself that terrible responsibility toward a man whom you do not love and to whom you do not wish to belong...."

"I am listening,--I am taking nothing upon myself ..." Liza was beginning.

"Listen to your heart; it alone will tell you the truth,"--Lavretzky interrupted her.... "Experience, reasoning--all that is stuff and nonsense! Do not deprive yourself of the best, the only happiness on earth."

"Is it you, Feodor Ivanitch, who are speaking thus? You, yourself, married for love--and were you happy?"

Lavretzky wrung his hands.

"Akh, do not talk to me of that! You cannot even understand all that a young, untried, absurdly educated lad can mistake for love!... Yes, and in short, why calumniate one's self? I just told you, that I had not known happiness ... no! I was happy!"

"It seems to me, Feodor Ivanitch,"--said Liza, lowering her voice (when she did not agree with her interlocutor, she always lowered her voice; and, at the same time, she became greatly agitated):--"happiness on earth does not depend upon us...."

"It does, it does depend upon us, believe me," (he seized both her hands; Liza turned pale, and gazed at him almost in terror, but with attention):--"if only we have not ruined our own lives. For some people, a love-marriage may prove unhappy; but not for you, with your calm temperament, with your clear soul! I entreat you, do not marry without love, from a sense of duty, of renunciation, or anything else.... That, also, is want of faith, that is calculation,--and even worse. Believe me,--I have a right to speak thus: I have paid dearly for that right. And if your G.o.d...."

At that moment, Lavretzky noticed that Lyenotchka and Schurotchka were standing beside Liza, and staring at him with dumb amazement. He released Liza's hands, said hastily: "Pray pardon me,"--and walked toward the house.