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"Lizanka, you are crying again . . . again," she said, hugging her daughter to her. "My own, my darling, my child, tell me what it is! Have pity on me! Tell me." Both wept bitterly. Korolyov sat down on the side of the bed and took Liza's hand. "Come, give over; it's no use crying," he said kindly. "Why, there is nothing in the world that is worth those tears.
Groholsky passed his fingers from one shoulder to another, as though to say, "My chest is weak, and so I can't shout across such a distance." Liza's heart began throbbing, and everything turned round before her eyes. Bugrov ran from his verandah, ran across the road, and a few seconds later was standing under the verandah on which Groholsky and Liza were dining. Alas for the partridges!
It was pleasant to him to feel himself near Liza, to sit in her garden, and on the bench where she also often sat. The light disappeared from Liza's room. "A quiet night to you, dear girl," whispered Lavretsky, still sitting where he was without moving, and not taking his eyes off the darkened window.
Panshine struck the first chords of the sonata, in which he played the bass, loudly and with decision, but Liza did not begin her part. He stopped and looked at her Liza's eyes, which were looking straight at him, expressed dissatisfaction; her lips did not smile, all her countenance was severe, almost sad. "What is the matter?" he asked. "Why have you not kept your word?" she said.
The benches were deserted, except, perhaps, for some poor homeless wretch who could afford no shelter, and, huddled up in a corner, with his head buried in his breast, was sleeping heavily, like a dead man. The wet mud made Liza's skirts cling about her feet, and the damp would come in and chill her legs and creep up her body, till she shivered, and for warmth pressed herself close against Jim.
Liza's face underwent a corresponding change. "Robbie, have you 'downed' him that Garth?" "Ey?" The glaring eyes were coming back. Liza, frightened again, began once more to whimper prettily. "I didn't mean to flayte you, Liza," Robbie said coaxingly. "You're a fair coax when you want something," said Liza, trying to disengage herself from the grasp of Robbie's arm about her waist.
And Marfa Timofeevna could not sufficiently kiss those poor, pale, nerveless hands; while silent tears poured down from her eyes and from Liza's too.
Johnson's kitchen, where he had played his pranks upon her, and told her the news of the war. Over Iola there stole a spirit of restfulness. There was something so motherly in Aunt Linda's manner that it seemed to recall the bright, sunshiny days when she used to nestle in Mam Liza's arms, in her own happy home.
The sly emphasis which was put upon the word that expressed Liza's unwillingness to commit herself to a declaration of her affection for some mysterious entity unknown seemed to Mr. Garth to be proof beyond contempt of question that the girl before him implied an affection for an entity no more mysterious than himself. The blacksmith's face brightened, and his manner changed.
And the Disagreeable Man, much to Bernardine's amazement, drew from his pocket a small parcel, which he confided to Liza's care. Every one pressed round her while she opened it, and found what she had so often wished for, a silver watch and chain. "Ach," she cried, "how heavenly! How all the girls here will envy me! How angry my dear friend Susanna will be!"
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