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Updated: June 11, 2025
I cannot think of sleep while I know that my wife is a slave . . . . But it is not Groholsky's fault. . . . The goods were mine, the money his. . . . Freedom for the free and Heaven for the saved." By day Ivan Petrovitch was no less insufferable to Groholsky. To Groholsky's intense horror, he was always at Liza's side.
At that moment Lavretsky became aware that Lenochka and Shurochka were standing by Liza's side, and were staring at him with intense astonishment. He dropped Liza's hands, saying hastily, "Forgive me," and walked away towards the house. "There is only one thing I have to ask you," he said, coming back to Liza.
"This young lady dislikes me," thought Varvara Pavlovna, as she squeezed Liza's cold fingers, then, turning to Maria Dmitrievna, she said in a half whisper. "Mais elle est délicieuse!" Liza faintly reddened. In that exclamation she seemed to detect a tone of irony and insult. However, she determined not to trust to that impression, and she took her seat at her embroidery frame near the window.
"He can't forget what happened on the fell with the mare that was a fearful thing, Liza." "Father says it's 'cause Robbie had the say over it all; but Joe Garth says it comes of Robbie sticking himself up alongside of Ralph Ray. What a genty one Robbie used to be!" Liza's face began to brighten at some amusing memories. "Do you mind Reuben Thwaite's merry night last winter at Aboon Beck?"
"Ef I should go to glory on de road, Uncle Isham," said Aunt Patsy, as the right wheel of the cart emerged from a rather awkward rut, "I don' want no fuss made 'bout me. You kin jes' bury me in de clothes. I got on, 'cep'n de pararsol, ob course, which is Liza's. Jes' wrop de quilt all roun' me, an' hab a extry size coffin. You needn't do nuffin' more'n dat."
She was replaced by Mademoiselle Moreau; but the frivolous Frenchwoman, with her dry manner and her constant exclamation, Tout ça c'est des bêtises! could not expel from Liza's heart the recollection of her much-loved nurse. The seeds that had been sown had pushed their roots too far for that.
The laughter of these worthies did not commend itself to Liza's sympathies, for, turning hotly upon them, she said, "And you're worse nor he is, you old sypers." "Liza, Liza," cried Robbie, raising his forefinger in an attitude of remonstrance, which he had just previously been practising on the unhappy Dash, "Liza, think what it is to call this reverend clerk and sexton and curate a toper!"
Down below, the door leading on to the balcony gaped wide open. Lavretsky sat down on a wooden bench, rested his head on his hand, and began looking at that door, and at Liza's window. Midnight sounded in the town; in the house a little clock feebly struck twelve. The watchman beat the hour with quick strokes on his board. Lavretsky thought of nothing, expected nothing.
With quick-coming breath she blurted out the main part of her revelations, and then paused, as much from physical exhaustion as from an overwhelming sense of the threatened calamity. Rotha was quick to catch the significance of the message communicated in Liza's disjointed words.
After she had dashed a drop or two from her eyes, she said: "I cannot tell what it's all about. He's always in a ponder, ponder, with his mouth open except when he's grindin' his teeth. I hate to see a man walking about like a haystack. And Robbie used to have so much fun once on a time." The tears were stealing up to Liza's eyes again.
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