Part 15 (2/2)

Lisa raised her head in alarm, and shrank back. She had recognised him.

He called to her a third time, and stretched out his hands to her. She came away from the door and stepped into the garden.

”Is it you?” she said. ”You here?”

”I--I--listen to me,” whispered Lavretsky, and seizing her hand he led her to the seat.

She followed him without resistance, her pale face, her fixed eyes, and all her gestures expressed an unutterable bewilderment. Lavretsky made her sit down and stood before her.

”I did not mean to come here,” he began. ”Something brought me.... I--I love you,” he uttered in involuntary terror.

Lisa slowly looked at him. It seemed as though she only at that instant knew where she was and what was happening. She tried to get up, she could no, and she covered her face with her hands.

”Lisa,” murmured Lavretsky. ”Lisa,” he repeated, and fell at her feet.

Her shoulders began to heave slightly; the fingers of her pale hands were pressed more closely to her face.

”What is it?” Lavretsky 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. She was not weeping now, and she looked at him steadfastly with her wet eyes.

”It frightens me: what are we 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 G.o.d'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.

Half an hour later Lavretsky was standing before the little garden gate.

He found it locked and was obliged to get over the fence. He returned to the town and walked along the slumbering streets. A sense of immense, unhoped-for happiness filled his soul; all his doubts had died away.

”Away, dark phantom of the past,” he thought. ”She loves me, she will be mine.” Suddenly it seemed to him that in the air over his head were floating strains of divine triumphant music. He stood still. The music resounded in still greater magnificence; a mighty flood of melody--and all his bliss seemed speaking and singing in its strains. He looked about him; the music floated down from two upper windows of a small house.

”Lemm?” cried Lavretsky as he ran to the house. ”Lemm! Lemm!” he repeated aloud.

The sounds died away and the figure of the old man in a dressing-gown, with his throat bare and his hair dishevelled, appeared at the window.

”Aha!” he said with dignity, ”is it you?”

”Christopher Fedoritch, what marvellous music! for mercy's sake, let me in.”

Without uttering a word, the old man with a majestic flourish of the arm dropped the key of the street door from the window.

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