n whose life is finished," he
said to himself. As she departed, Liza had hung her hat on a bough; with
a strange, almost tender sentiment, Lavretzky gazed at the hat, at its
long, rather crumpled ribbons. Liza speedily returned to him, and again
took up her stand on the raft.

"Why do you think that Vladimir Nikolaitch has no heart?"--she
inquired, a few moments later.

"I have already told you, that I may be mistaken; however, time will
show."

Liza became thoughtful. Lavretzky began to talk about his manner of life
at Vasilievskoe, about Mikhalevitch, about Anton; he felt impelled to
talk to Liza, to communicate to her everything that occurred to his soul:
she was so charming, she listened to him so attentively; her infrequent
comments and replies seemed to him so simple and wise. He even told her
so.

Liza was amazed.

"Really?"--she said;--"why, I have always thought that I, like my maid
Nastya, had no words of my own. One day she said to her betrothed: 'Thou
must find it tiresome with me; thou always sayest such fine things to me,
but I have no words of my own.'"

"And thank God for that!" thought Lavretzky.

XXVII

In the meantime, evening drew on, and Marya Dmitrievna expressed a
desire to return home. The little girls were, with difficulty, torn away
from the pond, and made ready. Lavretzky announced his intention to
escort his guests half way, and ordered his horse to be saddled. As he
seated Marya Dmitrievna in the carriage, he remembered Lemm; but the
old man was nowhere to be found. He had disappeared as soon as the
angling was over. Anton slammed to the carriage door, with a strength
remarkable for his years, and grimly shouted: "Drive on, coachman!" The
carriage rolled off. On the back seat sat Marya Dmitrievna and Liza; on
the front seat, the little girls and the maid. The evening was warm and
still, and the windows were lowered on both sides. Lavretzky rode at a
trot by Liza's side of the carriage, with his hand resting on the
door,--he had dropped the reins on the neck of his steed, which was
trotting smoothly,--and from time to time exchanged a few words with the
young girl. The sunset glow vanished; night descended, and the air grew
even warmer. Marya Dmitrievna soon fell into a doze; the little girls
and the maid also dropped off to sleep. The carriage rolled swiftly and
smoothly onward; Liza leaned forward; the moon, which had just risen,
shone on