“My child,” he began to say, “I beg you not to touch upon that wound.  Your touch is light, but—­in spite of all that, it will give me pain.”

“I know,” continued Liza, as if she had not heard him, “that she is guilty before you.  I do not want to justify her.  But how can they be separated whom God has joined together?”

“Our convictions on that score are widely different, Lizaveta Mikhailovna,” said Lavretsky, somewhat coldly.  “We shall not be able to understand one another.”

Liza grew pale.  Her whole body shuddered slightly, but she was not silenced.

“You ought to forgive,” she said quietly, “if you wish also to be forgiven.”

“Forgive!” cried Lavretsky; you ought first to know her for whom you plead.  Forgive that woman, take her back to my house, her, that hollow, heartless, creature!  And who has told you that she wants to return to me?  Why, she is completely satisfied with her position.  But why should we talk of her?  Her name ought never to be uttered by you.  You are too pure, you are not in a position even to understand such a being.”

“Why speak so bitterly?” said Liza, with an effort.  The trembling of her hands began to be apparent.  “You left her of your own accord, Fedor Ivanich.”

“But I tell you,” replied Lavretsky, with an involuntary burst of impatience, “you do not know the sort of creature she is.”

“Then why did you marry her?” whispered Liza, with downcast eyes.

Lavretsky jumped up quickly from his chair.

“Why did I marry her?  I was young and inexperienced then.  I was taken in.  A beautiful exterior fascinated me.  I did not understand women; there was nothing I did understand.  God grant you may make a happier marriage!  But take my word for it, it is impossible to be certain about anything.”

“I also may be unhappy,” said Liza, her voice beginning to waver, “but then I shall have to be resigned.  I cannot express myself properly, but I mean to say that if we are not resigned—­”

Lavretsky clenched his hands and stamped his foot.

“Don’t be angry; please forgive me,” hastily said Liza.  At that moment Maria Dmitrievna came into the room.  Liza stood up and was going away, when Lavretsky unexpectedly called after her: 

“Stop a moment.  I have a great favor to ask of your mother and you.  It is that you will come and pay me a visit in my new home.  I’ve got a piano, you know; Lemm is stopping with me; the lilacs are in bloom.  You will get a breath of country air, and be able to return the same day.  Do you consent?”

Liza looked at her mother, who immediately assumed an air of suffering.  But Lavretsky did not give Madame Kalatine time to open her mouth.  He instantly took both of her hands and kissed them, and Maria Dmitrievna, who always responded to winning ways, and had never for a moment expected such a piece of politeness from “the bear,” felt herself touched, and gave her consent.  While she was considering what day to appoint, Lavretsky went up to Liza, and, still under the influence of emotion, whispered aside to her, “Thanks.  You are a good girl.  I am in the wrong.”  Then a color came into her pale face, which lighted up with a quiet but joyous smile.  Her eyes also smiled.  Till that moment she had been afraid that she had offended him.