“Lisa!” broke hardly audibly from his lips.  She started, and began to gaze into the darkness.  “Lisa!” he repeated louder, and came out of the shadow.

She raised her head in alarm, and shrank back.  “Is it you?” she said.  “You here?”

“I—­I—­listen to me,” whispered Lavretsky, and seizing her hand he led her to a seat.  She followed him unresisting.  Her pale face, her fixed eyes, and all her gestures expressed an unutterable bewilderment.  Lavretsky stood before her.  “I did not mean to come here,” he began; “something brought me.  I—­I love you,” he uttered, in involuntary terror.  She tried to get up—­she could not; she covered her face with her hands.

“Lisa!” murmured Lavretsky.  “Lisa,” he repeated, and fell at her feet.  Her shoulders began to heave slightly.

“What is it?” he urged, and he heard a subdued sob.  His heart stood still... he knew the meaning of those tears.  “Can it be that you love me?” he whispered, and caressed her knees.

“Get up!” he heard her voice.  “Get up, Fedor Ivanitch.  What are we doing?”

He got up and sat beside her on the seat.

“It frightens me; what we are doing?” she repeated.

“I love you,” he said again.  “I am ready to devote my whole life to you.”

She shuddered again as though something had stung her, and lifted her eyes towards heaven.

“All that is in God’s hands,” she said.

“But you love me, Lisa?  We shall be happy.”

She dropped her eyes.  He softly drew her to him, and her head sank on to his shoulder—­he bent his head a little and touched her pale lips....

On the following day Lavretsky drove over to Vassilyevskoe.  The first thing that struck him on entering was the scent of patchouli, always distasteful to him.  There were some travelling trunks in the hall.  He crossed the threshold of the drawing-room—­a lady arose from the sofa, made a step forward, and fell at his feet.  He caught his breath... he leaned against the wall for support....  It was Barbara Paulovna!

A torrent of words told him that, stricken by remorse, she had determined to break every tie with her sins.  A serious illness had given rise to the rumour of her death.  She had taken advantage of this to give up everything.  Would he not spare her for their little daughter’s sake?

Lavretsky listened to the flood of eloquence in silence.  He did not believe one word of her protestations.  His wrath choked him:  this blow had fallen so suddenly upon him.

* * * * *

Lisa bent forward in her chair and covered her face with her hands.

“This is how we were to meet again,” he brought out at last.  It was in Marfa Timofyevna’s room that they met once more.  Lisa took her hands from her face.  “Yes!” she said faintly.  “We were quickly punished.”

“Punished!” said Lavretsky.  “What had you done to be punished?” His heart ached with pity and love.  “Yes, all is over before it had begun.”