He found them all at home, but he did not at once disclose his plan to them; he wanted to discuss it first with Lisa alone. Fortune favoured him; they were left alone in the drawing-room. They had some talk; she had had time by now to grow used to him — and she was not shy as a rule with any one. He listened to her, watched her, and mentally repeated Lemm’s words, and agreed with them. It sometimes happens that two people who are acquainted, but not on intimate terms with one another, all of sudden grow rapidly more intimate in a few minutes, and the consciousness of this greater intimacy is at once expressed in their eyes, in their soft and affectionate smiles, and in their very gestures. This was exactly what came to pass with Lavretsky and Lisa. “So he is like that,” was her thought, as she turned a friendly glance on him; “so you are like that,” he too was thinking. And so he was not very much surprised when she informed him, not without a little faltering, however, that she had long wished to say something to him, but she was afraid of offending him.

“Don’t be afraid; tell me,” he replied, and stood still before her.

Lisa raised her clear eyes to him.

“You are so good,” she began, and at the same time, she thought: “Yes, I am sure he is good” . . . “you will forgive me, I ought not dare to speak of it to you . . . but — how could you . . . why did you separate from your wife?”

Lavretsky shuddered: he looked at Lisa, and sat down near her.

“My child,” he began, “I beg you, do not touch upon that wound; your hands are tender, but it will hurt me all the same.”

“I know,” Lisa went on, as though she did not hear him, “she has been to blame towards you. I don’t want to defend her; but what God has joined, how can you put asunder?”

“Our convictions on that subject are too different, Lisaveta Mihalovna,” Lavretsky observed, rather sharply; “we cannot understand one another.”

Lisa grew paler: her whole frame was trembling slightly; but she was not silenced.

“You must forgive,” she murmured softly, “if you wish to be forgiven.”

“Forgive!” broke in Lavretsky. “Ought you not first to know whom you are interceding for? Forgive that woman, take her back into my home, that empty, heartless creature! And who told you she wants to return to me? She is perfectly contented with her position, I can assure you . . . But what a subject to discuss here! Her name ought never to be uttered by you. You are too pure, you are not capable of understanding such a creature.

“Why abuse her?” Lisa articulated with an effort. The trembling of her hands was perceptible now. “You left her yourself, Fedor Ivanitch.”

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