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Updated: June 1, 2025
Liza, Liza!" exclaimed Lavretsky, "how happy we might have been!" Liza again looked up at him. "Now even you must see, Fedor Ivanovich, that happiness does not depend upon ourselves, but upon God." "Yes, because you " The door of the next room suddenly opened, and Marfa Timofeevna came in, holding her cap in her hand.
Lavretsky sat upright and opened his eyes wide. On the slope before him extended a small village. A little to the right was to be seen an old manor house of modest dimensions, its shutters closed, its portico awry. On one side stood a barn built of oak, small, but well preserved. The wide court-yard was entirely overgrown by nettles, as green and thick as hemp. This was Vasilievskoe.
Lavretsky shrugged his shoulders and followed him. Marya Dmitrievna was sitting alone in her boudoir in an easy-chair, sniffing eau de cologne; a glass of orange-flower-water was standing on a little table near her. She was agitated and seemed nervous. Lavretsky came in. "You wanted to see me," he said, bowing coldly.
In the town it struck midnight; a little clock in the house shrilly clanged out twelve; the watchman beat it with jerky strokes upon his board. Lavretsky had no thought, no expectation; it was sweet to him to feel himself near Lisa, to sit in her garden on the seat where she herself had sat more than once. The light in Lisa's room vanished.
Lisa leant back against her chair and quietly covered her face with her hands; Lavretsky remained where he was. "This is how we were to meet again!" he brought out at last. Lisa took her hands from her face. "Yes," she said faintly: "we were quickly punished." "Punished," said Lavretsky.... "What had you done to be punished?" Lisa raised her eyes to him.
We shall have done our game directly. Will you have some preserves? Shurochka, give him a pot of strawberries. You won't have any? Well, then, sit there as you are. But as to smoking, you mustn't. I cannot abide your strong tobacco; besides, it would make Matros sneeze." Lavretsky hastened to assure her that he had not the slightest desire to smoke.
A slight shudder ran over her shoulders; she pressed the fingers of her white hands closer to her face. "What is it?" said Lavretsky. Then he heard a low sound of sobbing, and his heart sank within him. He understood the meaning of those tears. "Can it be that you love me?" he whispered, with a caressing gesture of the hand. "Stand up, stand up, Fedor Ivanovich," she at last succeeded in saying.
Turguenieff, instead of setting out the situation in detail, throws himself on the reader: "It was dark. Lavretsky went into the garden, and walked up and down there till dawn." That is all. And it is enough. The reader who is not capable of sharing that night walk with Lavretsky, and entering into his thoughts, has read the novel to no purpose.
'I, she said, 'am altogether guilty before him. 'I, she said, 'was not able to appreciate him. 'He, she said, 'is an angel, not a mere man, I can assure you that's what she said 'an angel. She is so penitent I do solemnly declare I have never seen any one so penitent." "But tell me, Maria Dmitrievna," said Lavretsky, "if I may be allowed to be so inquisitive.
But what is there to tell of people who, though still alive, have withdrawn from the battlefield of life? They say, Lavretsky visited that remote convent where Lisa had hidden herself that he saw her.
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