ad not endowed her with particularly brilliant
capacities, with a great mind; she acquired nothing without labour. She
played well on the piano; but Lemm alone knew what it cost her. She read
little; she had no "words of her own," but she had thoughts of her own,
and she went her own way. It was not for nothing that she resembled her
father: he, also, had not been wont to ask others what he should do. Thus
she grew up--quietly, at leisure; thus she attained her nineteenth year.
She was very pretty, without herself being aware of the fact. An
unconscious, rather awkward grace revealed itself in her every movement;
her voice rang with the silvery sound of unaffected youth, the slightest
sensation of pleasure evoked a winning smile on her lips, imparted a deep
gleam and a certain mysterious caress to her sparkling eyes. Thoroughly
imbued with the sense of duty, with the fear of wounding any one
whatsoever, with a kind and gentle heart, she loved every one in general,
and no one in particular; God alone she loved with rapture, timidly,
tenderly. Lavretzky was the first to break in upon her tranquil inner
life.

Such was Liza.

XXXVI

At twelve o'clock on the following day, Lavretzky set out for the
Kalitins'. On the way thither, he met Panshin, who galloped past him on
horseback, with his hat pulled down to his very eyebrows. At the
Kalitins', Lavretzky was not admitted,--for the first time since he had
known them. Marya Dmitrievna was "lying down,"--so the lackey
announced; "they" had a headache. Neither Marfa Timofeevna nor
Lizaveta Mikhailovna was at home. Lavretzky strolled along the garden,
in anxious hope of meeting Liza, but saw no one. He returned a couple of
hours later, and received the same answer, in connection with which the
lackey bestowed a sidelong glance upon him. It seemed to Lavretzky
impolite to intrude himself upon them for a third time that day--and he
decided to drive out to Vasilievskoe, where, without reference to this,
he had business to attend to. On the way he constructed various plans,
each more beautiful than the other; but in his aunt's hamlet, sadness
fell upon him; he entered into conversation with Anton; the old man, as
though expressly, had nothing but cheerless thoughts in his mind. He
narrated to Lavretzky, how Glafira Petrovna, before her death, had
bitten her own hand,--and, after a short pause, he added: "Every man,
master--dear little fath