inners she had given him, and
the money she had lent him, he replied (luckless mortal!) with the same
smile and in the same tone, "je crois bien," and not even, je crois
bien, but j'crois ben!

Varvara flung him a friendly glance and got up. Lisa came in: Marfa
Timofyevna had tried in vain to hinder her; she was resolved to go
through with her sufferings to the end. Varvara Pavlovna went to
meet her together with Panshin, on whose face the former diplomatic
expression had reappeared.

"How are you?" he asked Lisa.

"I am better now, thank you," she replied.

"We have been having a little music here; it's a pity you did not hear
Varvara Pavlovna, she sings superbly, en artiste consommee."

"Come here, my dear," sounded Marya Dmitrievna's voice.

Varvara Pavlovna went to her at once with the submissiveness of a child,
and sat down on a little stool at her feet. Marya Dmitrievna had called
her so as to leave her daughter, at least for a moment, alone with
Panshin; she was still secretly hoping that she would come round.
Besides, an idea had entered her head, to which she was anxious to give
expression at once.

"Do you know," she whispered to Varvara Pavlovna, "I want to endeavour
to reconcile you and your husband; I won't answer for my success, but I
will make an effort. He has, you know, a great respect for me." Varvara
Pavlovna slowly raised her eyes to Marya Dmitrievna, and eloquently
clasped her hands.

"You would be my saviour, ma tante," she said in a mournful voice: "I
don't know how to thank you for all your kindness; but I have been too
guilty towards Fedor Ivanitch; he can not forgive me."

"But did you--in reality--" Marya Dmitrievna was beginning
inquisitively.

"Don't question me," Varvara Pavlovna interrupted her, and she cast down
her eyes. "I was young, frivolous. But I don't want to justify myself."

"Well, anyway, why not try? Don't despair," rejoined Marya Dmitrievna,
and she was on the point of patting her on the cheek, but after a
glance at her she had not the courage. "She is humble, very humble," she
thought, "but still she is a lioness."

"Are you ill?" Panshin was saying to Lisa meanwhile.

"Yes, I am not well."

"I understand you," he brought out after a rather protracted silence.
"Yes, I understand you."

"What?"

"I understand you," Panshin repeated significantly; he simply did not
know what to say.

Lisa felt embarrassed, and then "so be it!" she thought. Panshin assumed