bosom, she had begun
to wail over him, then had glanced at Glafira Petrovna--and checked
herself. He remembered his father, at first vigorous, discontented with
everything, with strident voice; and later, blind, tearful, with unkempt
grey beard; he remembered how one day after drinking a glass too much at
dinner, and spilling the gravy over his napkin, he began to relate his
conquests, growing red in the face, and winking with his sightless eyes;
he remember Varvara Pavlovna,--and involuntarily shuddered, as a man
shudders from a sudden internal pain, and shook his head. Then his!
thoughts came to a stop at Lisa.

"There," he thought, "Is a new creature, only just entering on life.
A nice girl, what will become of her? She is good-looking too. A
pale, fresh face, mouth and eyes so serious, and an honest innocent
expression. It is a pity she seems a little enthusiastic. A good figure,
and she moves so lightly, and a soft voice. I like the way she stops
suddenly, listens attentively, without a smile, then grows thoughtful
and shakes back her hair. I fancy, too, that Panshin is not good enough
for her. What's amiss with him, though? And besides, what business have
I to wonder about it? She will go along the same road as all the rest. I
had better go to sleep." And Lavretsky closed his eyes.

He could not sleep, but he sank into the drowsy numbness of a journey.
Images of the past rose slowly as before, floated in his soul, mixed and
tangled up with other fancies. Lavretsky, for some unknown reason, began
to think about Robert Peel,... about French history--of how he would
gain a battle, if he were a general; he fancied the shots and the cries
.... His head slipped on one side, he opened his eyes. The same fields,
the same steppe scenery; the polished shoes of the trace-horses flashed
alternately through the driving dust; the coachman's shirt, yellow
with red gussets, was puffed out by the wind.... "A nice home-coming!"
glanced through Lavretsky's brain; and he cried, "Get on!" wrapped
himself in his cloak and pressed close into the cushion. The carriage
jolted; Lavretsky sat up and opened his eyes wide. On the slope before
him stretched a small hamlet; a little to the right could be seen an
ancient manor house of small size, with closed shutters! and a winding
flight of steps; nettles, green and thick as hemp, grew over the wide
courtyard from the very gates; in it stood a storehouse built of oak,
still strong. This was