hours at a time, she chatted with the overseer of her mother's
estate, when he came to town, and talked with him as with an equal,
without any lordly condescension. Lavretzky felt all this: he would not
have undertaken to reply to Panshin alone; he had been talking for Liza
only. They said nothing to each other, even their eyes met but rarely;
but both understood that they had come very close together that evening,
understood that they loved and did not love the same things. On only one
point did they differ; but Liza secretly hoped to bring him to God. They
sat beside Marfa Timofeevna, and appeared to be watching her play; and
they really were watching it,--but, in the meanwhile, their hearts had
waxed great in their bosoms, and nothing escaped them: for them the
nightingale was singing, the stars were shining, and the trees were
softly whispering, lulled both by slumber and by the softness of the
summer, and by the warmth. Lavretzky surrendered himself wholly to the
billow which was bearing him onward,--and rejoiced; but no word can
express that which took place in the young girl's pure soul: it was a
secret to herself; so let it remain for all others. No one knows, no one
has seen, and no one ever will see, how that which is called into life
and blossom pours forth and matures grain in the bosom of the earth.

The clock struck ten. Marfa Timofeevna went off to her rooms up-stairs,
with Nastasya Karpovna; Lavretzky and Liza strolled through the room,
halted in front of the open door to the garden, gazed into the dark
distance, then at each other--and smiled; they would have liked, it
appeared, to take each other by the hand, and talk their fill. They
returned to Marya Dmitrievna and Panshin, whose picquet had become
protracted. The last "king" came to an end at length, and the hostess
rose, groaning, and sighing, from the cushion-garnished arm-chair;
Panshin took his hat, kissed Marya Dmitrievna's hand, remarked that
nothing now prevented other happy mortals from going to bed, or enjoying
the night, but that he must sit over stupid papers until the morning
dawned, bowed coldly to Liza (he had not expected that in reply to his
offer of marriage, she would ask him to wait,--and therefore he was
sulking at her)--and went away. Lavretzky followed him. At the gate they
parted; Panshin aroused his coachman by poking him with the tip of his
cane in the neck, seated himself in his drozhky, and drove off.
Lavretzky did not fee