[Footnote A:  The priest’s son. i.e., Gedeonovsky.]

“Why do you say ‘Thank God?’” asked Lavretsky.

“Why, because this fine young man doesn’t please me.  And what is there in the matter to be delighted about, I should like to know?”

“Doesn’t he please you?”

“No; he can’t fascinate every one.  It’s enough for him that Nastasia Carpovna here is in love with him.”

The poor widow was terribly disconcerted.

“How can you say so, Marfa Timofeevna?  Do not you fear God?” she exclaimed, and a blush instantly suffused her face and neck.

“And certainly the rogue knows how to fascinate her,” broke in Marfa Timofeevna.  “He has given her a snuff-box.  Fedia, ask her for a pinch of snuff.  You will see what a splendid snuff-box it is.  There is a hussar on horseback on the lid.  You had much better not try to exculpate yourself, my mother.”

Nastasia Carpovna could only wave her hands with a deprecatory air.

“Well, but about Liza?” asked Lavretsky.  “Is he indifferent to her?”

“She seems to like him—­and as to the rest, God knows.  Another person’s heart, you know, is a dark forest, and more especially a young girl’s.  Look at Shurochka there!  Come and analyze her’s.  Why has she been hiding herself, but not going away, ever since you came in?”

Shurochka burst into a laugh she was unable to stifle, and ran out of the room.  Lavretsky also rose from his seat.

“Yes,” he said slowly; “one cannot fathom a girl’s heart.”

As he was going to take leave.

“Well; shall we see you soon?” asked Marfa Timofeevna.

“Perhaps, aunt.  It’s no great distance to where I’m going.”

“Yes; you’re going, no doubt, to Vasilievskoe.  You won’t live at Lavriki.  Well, that’s your affair.  Only go and kneel down at your mother’s grave, and your grandmother’s, too, while you are there.  You have picked up all kinds of wisdom abroad there, and perhaps, who can tell, they may feel, even in their graves, that you have come to visit them.  And don’t forget, Fedia, to have a service said for Glafira Petrovna, too.  Here is a rouble for you.  Take it, take it please; it is I who wish to have the service performed for her.  I didn’t love her while she lived, but it must be confessed that she was a girl of character.  She was clever.  And then she didn’t hurt you.  And now go, and God be with you—­else I shall tire you.”

And Marfa Timofeevna embraced her nephew.

“And Liza shall not marry Panshine; don’t make yourself uneasy about that.  He isn’t the sort of man she deserves for a husband.”

“But I am not in the least uneasy about it,” remarked Lavretsky as he retired.

XVIII.