“How are you?” he asked Lisa.

“I am better now, thank you,” she replied.

“We have been having a little music here; it’s a pity you did not hear Varvara Pavlovna, she sings superbly, en artiste consommee.”

“Come here, my dear,” sounded Marya Dmitrievna’s voice.

Varvara Pavlovna went to her at once with the submissiveness of a child, and sat down on a little stool at her feet.  Marya Dmitrievna had called her so as to leave her daughter, at least for a moment, alone with Panshin; she was still secretly hoping that she would come round.  Besides, an idea had entered her head, to which she was anxious to give expression at once.

“Do you know,” she whispered to Varvara Pavlovna, “I want to endeavour to reconcile you and your husband; I won’t answer for my success, but I will make an effort.  He has, you know, a great respect for me.”  Varvara Pavlovna slowly raised her eyes to Marya Dmitrievna, and eloquently clasped her hands.

“You would be my saviour, ma tante,” she said in a mournful voice:  “I don’t know how to thank you for all your kindness; but I have been too guilty towards Fedor Ivanitch; he can not forgive me.”

“But did you—­in reality—­” Marya Dmitrievna was beginning inquisitively.

“Don’t question me,” Varvara Pavlovna interrupted her, and she cast down her eyes.  “I was young, frivolous.  But I don’t want to justify myself.”

“Well, anyway, why not try?” Don’t despair,” rejoined Marya Dmitrievna, and she was on the point of patting her on the cheek, but after a glance at her she had not the courage.  “She is humble, very humble,” she thought, “but still she is a lioness.”

“Are you ill?” Panshin was saying to Lisa meanwhile.

“Yes, I am not well.”

“I understand you,” he brought out after a rather protracted silence.  “Yes, I understand you.”

“What?”

“I understand you,” Panshin repeated significantly; he simply did not know what to say.

Lisa felt embarrassed, and then “so be it!” she thought.  Panshin assumed a mysterious air and kept silent, looking severely away.

“I fancy though it’s struck eleven,” remarked Marya Dmitrievna.

Her guests took the hint and began to say good-bye.  Varvara Pavlovna had to promise that she would come to dinner the following day and bring Ada.  Gedeonovsky, who had all but fallen asleep sitting in his corner, offered to escort her home.  Panshin took leave solemnly of all, but at the steps as he put Varvara Pavlovna into her carriage he pressed her hand, and cried after her, “au revoir!” Gedeonovsky sat beside her all the way home.  She amused herself by pressing the tip of her little foot as though accidentally on his foot; he was thrown into confusion and began paying her compliments.  She tittered and made eyes at him when the light of a street lamp fell into the carriage.  The waltz she had played was ringing