the two little girls went on to the dam at the end of the
lake. Lavretsky placed himself near Liza. The fish kept continually
nibbling. Every minute a captured carp glistened in the air with its
sometimes golden, sometimes silver, sides. The little girls kept up a
ceaseless flow of joyful exclamations. Madame Kalitine herself two or
three times uttered a plaintive cry. Lavretsky and Liza caught fewer
fish than the others; probably because they paid less attention to
their fishing, and let their floats drift up against the edge of the
lake. The tall, reddish reeds murmured quietly around them; in front
quietly shone the unruffled water, and the conversation they carried
on was quiet too.

Liza stood on the little platform [placed there for the use of the
washerwomen;] Lavretsky sat on the bent stem of a willow. Liza wore a
white dress, fastened round the waist by a broad, white ribbon. From
one hand hung her straw hat; with the other she, not without some
effort, supported her drooping fishing-rod. Lavretsky gazed at her
pure, somewhat severe profile--at the hair turned back behind her
ears--at her soft cheeks, the hue of which was like that of a young
child's--and thought: "How charming you look, standing there by my
lake!" Liza did not look at him, but kept her eyes fixed on the water,
something which might be a smile lurking about their corners. Over
both Lavretsky and Liza fell the shadow of a neighboring lime-tree.

"Do you know," he began, "I have thought a great deal about our
last conversation, and I have come to this conclusion, that you are
exceedingly good."

"It certainly was not with that intention that I--" replied Liza, and
became greatly confused.

"You are exceedingly good," repeated Lavretsky. "I am a rough-hewn
man; but I feel that every one must love you. There is Lemm, for
instance: he's simply in love with you."

Liza's eyebrows did not exactly frown, but they quivered. This always
happened with her when she heard anything she did not like.

"I felt very sorry for him to-day, with his unsuccessful romance,"
continued Lavretsky. "To be young and to want knowledge--that is
bearable. But to have grown old and to fail in strength--that is
indeed heavy. And the worst of it is, that one doesn't know when one's
strength has failed. To an old man such blows are hard to bear. Take
care! you've a bite--I hear," continued Lavretsky, after a short
pause, "That M. Panshine has written a very charming roma