e
here," he thought, "touch me, touch my soul." She was still praying
calmly; her face seemed him to him full of joy, and he was softened
anew: he prayed for another soul, peace; for his own, forgiveness.

They met in the porch; she greeted him with glad and gracious
seriousness. The sun brightly lighted up the young grass in the
church-yard, and the striped dresses and kerchiefs of the women; the
bells of the churches near were tinkling overhead; and the crows were
cawing about the hedges. Lavretsky stood with uncovered head, a smile
on his lips; the light breeze lifted his hair, and the ribbons of Lisa's
hat. He put Lisa and Lenotchka who was with her into their carriage,
divided all his money among the poor, and peacefully sauntered home.

Chapter XXXII

Painful days followed for Fedor Ivanitch. He found himself in a
continual fever. Every morning he made for the post, and tore open
letters and papers in agitation, and nowhere did he find anything
which could confirm or disprove the fateful rumour. Sometimes he was
disgusting to himself. "What am I about," he thought, "waiting, like a
vulture for blood, for certain news of my wife's death?" He went to the
Kalitins every day, but things had grown no easier for him there; the
lady of the house was obviously sulky with him, and received him very
condescendingly. Panshin treated him with exaggerated politeness; Lemm
had entrenched himself in his misanthropy and hardly bowed to him, and,
worst of all, Lisa seemed to avoid him. When she happened to be
left alone with him, instead of her former candour there was visible
embarrassment on her part, she did not know what to say to him, and he,
too, felt confused. In the space of a few days Lisa had become quite
different from what she was as he knew her: in her movements, her voice,
her very laugh a secret tremor, an unevenness never there before was
apparent. Marya Dmitrievna, like a true egoist, suspected nothing; but
Marfa Timofyevna began to keep a watch over her favourite. Lavretsky
more than once reproached himself for having shown Lisa the newspaper
he had received; he could not but be conscious that in his spiritual
condition there was something revolting to a pure nature. He imagined
also that the change in Lisa was the result of her inward conflicts, her
doubts as to what answer to give Panshin.

One day she brought him a book, a novel of Walter Scott's, which she had
herself asked him for.

"Have you rea