ows? I might,
perhaps, have been more grieved if I had got this news a fortnight
sooner."

"A fortnight?" repeated Lisa. "But what has happened then in the last
fortnight?"

Lavretsky made no answer, and suddenly Lisa flushed even more than
before.

"Yes, yes, you guess why," Lavretsky cried suddenly, "in the course of
this fortnight I have come to know the value of a pure woman's heart,
and my past seems further from me than ever."

Lisa was confused, and went gently into the flower-garden towards
Lenotchka and Shurotchka.

"But I am glad I showed you that newspaper," said Lavretsky, walking
after her; "already I have grown used to hiding nothing from you, and I
hope you will repay me with the same confidence."

"Do you expect it?" said Lisa, standing still. "In that case I
ought--but no! It is impossible."

"What is it? Tell me, tell me."

"Really, I believe I ought not--after all, though," added Lisa, turning
to Lavretsky with a smile, "what's the good of half confidence? Do you
know I received a letter today?"

"From Panshin?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"He asks for your hand?"

"Yes," replied Lisa, looking Lavretsky straight in the face with a
serious expression.

Lavretsky on his side looked seriously at Lisa.

"Well, and what answer have you given him?" he managed to say at last.

"I don't know what answer to give," replied Lisa, letting her clasped
hands fall.

"How is that? Do you love him, then?"

"Yes, I like him; he seems a nice man."

"You said the very same thing, and in the very same words, three days
ago. I want to know do you love him with that intense passionate feeling
which we usually call love?"

"As you understand it--no."

"You're not in love with him?"

"No. But is that necessary?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mamma likes him," continued Lisa, "he is kind; I have nothing against
him."

"You hesitate, however."

"Yes--and perhaps--you, your words are the cause of it. Do you remember
what you said three days ago? But that is weakness."

"O my child!" cried Lavretsky suddenly, and his voice was shaking,
"don't cheat yourself with sophistries, don't call weakness the cry of
your heart, which is not ready to give itself without love. Do not take
on yourself such a fearful responsibility to this man, whom you don't
love, though you are ready to belong to him."

"I'm obeying, I take nothing on myself," Lisa was murmuring.

"Obey your heart; only that will tell you the