assuming an expression of suffering; but Lavretsky
did not give her time to open her mouth; he at once
kissed both her hands. Marya Dmitrievna, who
was always susceptible to demonstrations of feeling,
and did not at all anticipate such effusivements from
the “dolt,” was melted and gave her consent.
While she was deliberating which day to fix, Lavretsky
went up to Lisa, and, still greatly moved, whispered
to her aside: “Thank you, you are a good
girl; I was to blame.” And her pale face
glowed with a bright, shy smile; her eyes smiled too—up
to that instant she had been afraid she had offended
him.
“Vladimir Nikolaitch can come with us?”
inquired Marya Dmitrievna.
“Yes,” replied Lavretsky, “but would
it not be better to be just a family party?”
“Well, you know, it seems,” began Marya
Dmitrievna. “But as you please,”
she added.
It was decided to take Lenotchka and Shurotchka.
Marfa Timofyevna refused to join in the expedition.
“It is hard for me, my darling,” she said,
“to give my old bones a shaking; and to be sure
there’s nowhere for me to sleep at your place:
besides, I can’t sleep in a strange bed.
Let the young folks go frolicking.”
Lavretsky did not succeed in being alone again with
Lisa; but he looked at her in such a way that she
felt her heart at rest, and a little ashamed, and
sorry for him. He pressed her hand warmly at parting;
left alone, she fell to musing.
When Lavretsky reached home, he was met at the door
of the drawing-room by a tall, thin man, in a thread-bare
blue coat, with a wrinkled, but lively face, with
disheveled grey whiskers, a long straight nose, and
small fiery eyes. This was Mihalevitch, who had
been his friend at the university. Lavretsky
did not at first recognise him, but embraced him warmly
directly he told his name.
They had not met since their Moscow days. Torrents
of exclamations and questions followed; long-buried
recollections were brought to light. Hurriedly
smoking pipe after pipe, tossing off tea at a gulp,
and gesticulating with his long hands, Mihalevitch
related his adventures to Lavretsky; there was nothing
very inspiriting in them, he could not boast of success
in his undertakings—but he was constantly
laughing a hoarse, nervous laugh. A month previously
he had received a position in the private counting-house
of a spirit-tax contractor, two hundred and fifty
miles from the town of O-----, and hearing of Lavretsky
returned from abroad he had turned out of his way
so as to see his old friend. Mihalevitch and
talked as impetuously as in his youth; made as much
noise and was as effervescent as of old. Lavretsky
was about to acquaint him with his new position, but
Mihalevitch interrupted him, muttering hurriedly,
“I have heard, my dear fellow, I have heard—who
could have anticipated it?” and at once turned
the conversation upon general subjects.
