Marfa Timofeevna went away, and Liza sat down in a corner, and cried a long time.  Her heart was heavy within her.  She had not deserved to be so humiliated.  It was not in a joyous manner that love had made itself known to her.  It was for the second time since yesterday morning that she was crying now.  This new and unlooked-for feeling had only just sprung into life within her heart, and already how deafly had she had to pay for it, how roughly had other hands dealt with her treasured secret!  She felt ashamed, and hurt, and unhappy; but neither doubt nor fear troubled her, and Lavretsky became only still dearer to her.  She had hesitated so long as she was not sure of her own feelings; but after that interview, after that kiss—­she could no longer hesitate.  She knew now that she loved, and that she loved earnestly, honestly; she knew that her’s was a firm attachment, one which would last for her whole life.  As for threats, she did not fear them.  She felt that this tie was one which no violence could break.

XXXVII.

Maria Dmitrievna was greatly embarrassed when she was informed that Madame Lavretsky was at the door.  She did not even know whether she ought to receive her, being afraid of offending Lavretsky; but at last curiosity prevailed.  “After all,” she thought, “she is a relation, too.”  So she seated herself in an easy chair, and said to the footman, “Show her in.”

A few minutes went by, then the door was thrown open, and Varvara Pavlovna, with a swift and almost noiseless step, came up to Maria Dmitrievna, and, without giving her time to rise from her chair, almost went down upon her knees before her.

“Thank you, aunt,” she began in Russian, speaking softly, but in a tone of deep emotion.  “Thank you; I had not even dared to hope that you would condescend so far.  You are an angel of goodness.”

Having said this, Varvara Pavlovna unexpectedly laid hold of one of Maria Dmitrievna’s hands, gently pressed it between her pale-lilac Jouvin’s gloves, and then lifted it respectfully to her pouting, rosy lips.  Maria Dmitrievna was entirely carried away by the sight of such a handsome and exquisitely dressed woman almost at her feet, and did not know what position to assume.  She felt half inclined to draw back her hand, half inclined to make her visitor sit down, and to say something affectionate to her.  She ended by rising from her chair and kissing Varvara’s smooth and perfumed forehead.

Varvara appeared to be totally overcome by that kiss.

“How do you do? bonjour,” said Maria Dmitrievna.  “I never imagined—­however, I’m really delighted to see you.  You will understand, my dear, it is not my business to be judge between a man and his wife.”

“My husband is entirely in the right,” said Varvara Pavlovna, interrupting her, “I alone am to blame.”

“Those are very praiseworthy sentiments, very,” said Maria Dmitrievna.  “Is it long since you arrived?  Have you seen him?  But do sit down.”