assuming an expression of suffering; but Lavretsky did not give her time to open her mouth; he at once kissed both her hands.  Marya Dmitrievna, who was always susceptible to demonstrations of feeling, and did not at all anticipate such effusivements from the “dolt,” was melted and gave her consent.  While she was deliberating which day to fix, Lavretsky went up to Lisa, and, still greatly moved, whispered to her aside:  “Thank you, you are a good girl; I was to blame.”  And her pale face glowed with a bright, shy smile; her eyes smiled too—­up to that instant she had been afraid she had offended him.

“Vladimir Nikolaitch can come with us?” inquired Marya Dmitrievna.

“Yes,” replied Lavretsky, “but would it not be better to be just a family party?”

“Well, you know, it seems,” began Marya Dmitrievna.  “But as you please,” she added.

It was decided to take Lenotchka and Shurotchka.  Marfa Timofyevna refused to join in the expedition.

“It is hard for me, my darling,” she said, “to give my old bones a shaking; and to be sure there’s nowhere for me to sleep at your place:  besides, I can’t sleep in a strange bed.  Let the young folks go frolicking.”

Lavretsky did not succeed in being alone again with Lisa; but he looked at her in such a way that she felt her heart at rest, and a little ashamed, and sorry for him.  He pressed her hand warmly at parting; left alone, she fell to musing.

Chapter XXV

When Lavretsky reached home, he was met at the door of the drawing-room by a tall, thin man, in a thread-bare blue coat, with a wrinkled, but lively face, with disheveled grey whiskers, a long straight nose, and small fiery eyes.  This was Mihalevitch, who had been his friend at the university.  Lavretsky did not at first recognise him, but embraced him warmly directly he told his name.

They had not met since their Moscow days.  Torrents of exclamations and questions followed; long-buried recollections were brought to light.  Hurriedly smoking pipe after pipe, tossing off tea at a gulp, and gesticulating with his long hands, Mihalevitch related his adventures to Lavretsky; there was nothing very inspiriting in them, he could not boast of success in his undertakings—­but he was constantly laughing a hoarse, nervous laugh.  A month previously he had received a position in the private counting-house of a spirit-tax contractor, two hundred and fifty miles from the town of O-----, and hearing of Lavretsky returned from abroad he had turned out of his way so as to see his old friend.  Mihalevitch and talked as impetuously as in his youth; made as much noise and was as effervescent as of old.  Lavretsky was about to acquaint him with his new position, but Mihalevitch interrupted him, muttering hurriedly, “I have heard, my dear fellow, I have heard—­who could have anticipated it?” and at once turned the conversation upon general subjects.