Lavretsky followed her out of the church, and came up with her in the street.  She was walking very fast, her head drooping, her veil pulled low over her face.

“Good-day, Lizaveta Mikhailovna,” he said in a loud voice, with feigned indifference.  “May I accompany you?”

She made no reply.  He walked on by her side.

“Are you satisfied with me?” he asked, lowering his voice.  “You have heard what took place yesterday, I suppose?”

“Yes, yes,” she answered in a whisper; “that was very good;” and she quickened her pace.

“Then you are satisfied?”

Liza only made a sign of assent.

“Fedor Ivanovich,” she began, presently, in a calm but feeble voice, “I wanted to ask you something.  Do not come any more to our house.  Go away soon.  We may see each other by-and-by—­some day or other—­a year hence, perhaps.  But now, do this for my sake.  In God’s name, I beseech you, do what I ask!”

“I am ready to obey you in every thing, Lizaveta Mikhailovna.  But can it be that we must part thus?  Is it possible that you will not say a single word to me?”

“Fedor Ivanovich, you are walking here by my side.  But you are already so far, far away from me; and not only you, but—­”

“Go on, I entreat you!” exclaimed Lavretsky.  “What do you mean?”

“You will hear, perhaps—­But whatever it may be, forget—­No, do not forget me—­remember me.”

“I forget you?”

“Enough.  Farewell.  Please do not follow me.”

“Liza—­” began Lavretsky.

“Farewell, farewell!” she repeated, and then, drawing her veil still lower over her face, she went away, almost at a run.

Lavretsky looked after her for a time, and then walked down the street with drooping head.  Presently he ran against Lemm, who also was walking along with his hat pulled low over his brows, and his eyes fixed on his feet.

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 tarantass.  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.