tart.

"Stop, do not talk like that. Of what use to you is your freedom? You
must not think about that now, but about forgiveness...."

"I forgave her long ago,"--interrupted Lavretzky, with a wave of the
hand.

"No, not that,"--returned Liza, and blushed. "You did not understand me
rightly. You must take means to obtain forgiveness...."

"Who is there to forgive me?"

"Who?--God. Who else but God can forgive us?"

Lavretzky caught her hand.

"Akh, Lizaveta Mikhailovna, believe me,"--he exclaimed:--"I have been
sufficiently punished as it is. I have already atoned for everything,
believe me."

"You cannot know that,"--said Liza in a low voice. "You have
forgotten;--not very long ago,--when you were talking to me,--you were
not willing to forgive her...."

The two walked silently down the alley.

"And how about your daughter?"--Liza suddenly inquired, and halted.

Lavretzky started.

"Oh, do not worry yourself! I have already despatched letters to all the
proper places. The future of my daughter, as you call ... as you say ...
is assured. Do not disquiet yourself."

Liza smiled sadly.

"But you are right,"--went on Lavretzky:--"what can I do with my
freedom? Of what use is it to me?"

"When did you receive that newspaper?"--said Liza, making no reply to his
question.

"The day after your visit."

"And is it possible ... is it possible that you did not even weep?"

"No. I was stunned; but where were the tears to come from? Weep over the
past,--but, you see, it is entirely extirpated in my case!... Her
behaviour itself did not destroy my happiness, but merely proved to me
that it had never existed. What was there to cry about? But, who
knows?--perhaps I should have been more grieved if I had received this
news two weeks earlier...."

"Two weeks?"--returned Liza. "But what has happened in those two weeks?"

Lavretzky made no answer, and Liza suddenly blushed more furiously than
before.

"Yes, yes, you have guessed it,"--interposed Lavretzky:--"in the course
of those two weeks I have learned what a pure woman's soul is like, and
my past has retreated still further from me."

Liza became confused, and softly walked toward the flower-garden, to
Lyenotchka and Schurotchka.

"And I am glad that I have shown you this newspaper,"--said Lavretzky,
as he followed her:--"I have already contracted the habit of concealing
nothing from you, and I hope that you will repay me with the same
confidence."

"