Liza looked at her aunt with a meditative air.

“What was that word you used?” she whispered.

“What word—­what?” sharply replied the old lady.  “It is dreadful,” she continued, suddenly pulling off her cap and sitting down on Liza’s bed.  “It is more than I can bear.  This is the fourth day I’ve been just as if I were boiling in a cauldron.  I cannot any longer pretend I don’t observe any thing.  I cannot bear to see you crying, to see how pale and withered you are growing.  I cannot—­I cannot.”

“But what makes you say that aunt?” said Liza.  “There is nothing the matter with me, I—­”

“Nothing?” exclaimed Marfa Timofeevna.  “Tell that to some one else, not to me!  Nothing!  But who was on her knees just now?  Whose eyelashes are still wet with tears?  Nothing!  Why, just look at yourself, what have you done to your face? where are your eyes gone?  Nothing, indeed!  As if I didn’t know all!”

“Give me a little time, aunt.  All this will pass away.”

“Will pass away!  Yes, but when?  Good heavens! is it possible you have loved him so much?  Why, he is quite an old fellow, Lizochka!  Well, well!  I don’t deny he is a good man; will not bite; but what of that?  We are all good people; the world isn’t shut up in a corner, there will always be plenty of this sort of goodness.”

“I can assure you all this will pass away—­all this has already passed away.”

“Listen to what I am going to tell you, Lizochka,” suddenly said Marfa Timofeevna, making Liza sit down beside her on the bed, smoothing down the girl’s hair, and setting her neckerchief straight while she spoke.  “It seems to you, in the heat of the moment, as if it were impossible for your wound to be cured.  Ah, my love, it is only death for which there is no cure.  Only say to yourself, ’I won’t give in—­so much for him!’ and you will be surprised yourself to see how well and how quickly it will all pass away.  Only have a little patience.”

“Aunt,” replied Liza, “it has already passed away.  All has passed away.”

“Passed away! how passed away?  Why your nose has actually grown peaky, and yet you say—­’passed away.’  Passed away indeed!”

“Yes, passed away, aunt—­if only you are willing to help me,” said Liza, with unexpected animation, and then threw her arms round Marfa Timofeevna’s neck.  “Dearest aunt, do be a friend to me, do help me, don’t be angry with me, try to understand me—­”

“But what is all this, what is all this, my mother?  Don’t frighten me, please.  I shall cry out in another minute.  Don’t look at me like that:  quick, tell me what is the meaning of all this!”

“I—­I want—­” Here Liza hid her face on Marfa Timofeevna’s breast.  “I want to go into a convent,” she said in a low tone.

The old lady fairly bounded off the bed.

“Cross yourself, Lizochka! gather your senses together! what ever are you about?  Heaven help you!” at last she stammered out.  “Lie down and sleep a little, my darling.  And this comes of your want of sleep, dearest.”