Part 31 (2/2)
They looked at each other for a time in silence.
”Well, what have you to say?” asked Lavretsky at last.
”What have I to say?” replied Lemm, in a surly voice. ”I have nothing to say. 'All is dead and we are dead.' ('_Alles ist todt und wir sind todt_.') Do you go to the right?”
”Yes.”
”And I am going to the left. Good-bye.”
On the following morning Lavretsky took his wife to Lavriki. She went in front in a carriage with Ada and Justine. He followed behind in a taranta.s.s. During the whole time of the journey, the little girl never stirred from the carriage-window. Every thing astonished her: the peasant men and women, the cottages, the wells, the arches over the horses' necks, the little bells hanging from them, and the numbers of rooks. Justine shared her astonishment. Varvara Pavlovna kept laughing at their remarks and exclamations. She was in excellent spirits; she had had an explanation with her husband before leaving O.
”I understand your position,” she had said to him; and, from the expression of her quick eyes, he could see that she did completely understand his position. ”But you will do me at least this justice--you will allow that I am an easy person to live with. I shall not obtrude myself on you, or annoy you. I only wished to ensure Ada's future; I want nothing more.”
”Yes, you have attained all your ends,” said Lavretsky.
”There is only one thing I dream of now; to bury myself for ever in seclusion. But I shall always remember your kindness--”
”There! enough of that!” said he, trying to stop her.
”And I shall know how to respect your tranquillity and your independence,” she continued, bringing her preconcerted speech to a close.
Lavretsky bowed low. Varvara understood that her husband silently thanked her.
The next day they arrived at Lavriki towards evening. A week later Lavretsky went away to Moscow, having left five thousand roubles at his wife's disposal; and the day after Lavretsky's departure, Pans.h.i.+ne appeared, whom Varvara Pavlovna had entreated not to forget her in her solitude. She received him in the most cordial manner; and, till late that night, the lofty rooms of the mansion and the very garden itself were enlivened by the sounds of music, and of song, and of joyous French talk. Pans.h.i.+ne spent three days with Varvara Pavlovna. When saying farewell to her, and warmly pressing her beautiful hands, he promised to return very soon--and he kept his word.
XLIII.
Liza had a little room of her own on the second floor of her mother's house, a bright, tidy room, with a bedstead with white curtains in it, a small writing-table, several flower-pots in the corners and in front of the windows, and fixed against the wall a set of bookshelves and a crucifix. It was called the nursery; Liza had been born in it.
After coming back from the church where Lavretsky had seen her, she set all her things in order with even more than usual care, dusted every thing, examined all her papers and letters from her friends, and tied them up with pieces of ribbon, shut up all her drawers, and watered her flowers, giving each flower a caressing touch. And all this she did deliberately, quietly, with a kind of sweet and tranquil earnestness in the expression of her face. At last she stopped still in the middle of the room and looked slowly around her; then she approached the table over which hung the crucifix, fell on her knees, laid her head on her clasped hands, and remained for some time motionless. Presently Marfa Timofeevna entered the room and found her in that position. Liza did not perceive her arrival. The old lady went out of the room on tiptoe, and coughed loudly several times outside the door. Liza hastily rose and wiped her eyes, which shone, with gathered but not fallen tears.
”So I see you have arranged your little cell afresh,” said Marfa Timofeevna, bending low over a young rose-tree in one of the flower-pots. ”How sweet this smells!”
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!”
<script>