Liza raised her head; her cheeks glowed.

“No, aunt,” she said, “do not say that.  I have prayed, I have asked God’s advice, and I have made up my mind.  All is over.  My life with you here is ended.  Such lessons are not given to us without a purpose; besides, it is not for the first time that I think of it now.  Happiness was not for me.  Even when I did indulge in hopes of happiness, my heart shuddered within me.  I know all, both my sins and those of others, and how papa made our money.  I know all, and all that I must pray away, must pray away.  I grieve to leave you, I grieve for mamma and for Lenochka; but there is no help for it.  I feel that it is impossible for me to live here longer.  I have already taken leave of every thing, I have greeted every thing in the house for the last time.  Something calls me away.  I am sad at heart, and I would fain hide myself away for ever.  Please don’t hinder me or try to dissuade me; but do help me, or I shall have to go away by myself.”

Marfa Timofeevna listened to her niece with horror.

“She is ill,” she thought.  “She is raving.  We must send for a doctor; but for whom?  Gedeonovsky praised some one the other day; but then he always lies—­but perhaps he has actually told the truth this time.”

But when she had become convinced that Liza was not ill, and was not raving—­when to all her objections Liza had constantly made the same reply, Marfa Timofeevna was thoroughly alarmed, and became exceedingly sorrowful.

“But surely you don’t know, my darling, what sort of life they lead in convents!” thus she began, in hopes of dissuading her.  “Why they will feed you on yellow hemp oil, my own; they will dress you in coarse, very coarse clothing; they will make you go out in the cold; you will never be able to bear all this Lizochka.  All these ideas of yours are Agafia’s doing.  It is she who has driven you out of your senses.  But then she began with living, and with living to her own satisfaction.  Why shouldn’t you live too?  At all events, let me die in peace, and then do as you please.  And who on earth has ever known any one go into a convent for the sake of such-a-one—­for a goat’s beard—­God forgive me—­for a man!  Why, if you’re so sad at heart, you should pay a visit to a convent, pray to a saint, order prayers to be said, but don’t put the black veil on your head, my batyushka, my matyushka.”

And Marfa Timofeevna cried bitterly.

Liza tried to console her, wiped the tears from her eyes, and cried herself, but maintained her purpose unshaken.  In her despair, Marfa Timofeevna tried to turn threats to account, said she would reveal every thing to Liza’s mother; but that too had no effect.  All that Liza would consent to do in consequence of the old lady’s urgent entreaties, was to put off the execution of her plan for a half year.  In return Marfa Timofeevna was obliged to promise that, if Liza had not changed her mind at the end of the six months, she would herself assist in the matter, and would contrive to obtain Madame Kalitine’s consent.