aised herself up again, with a sort of soft and
modest sound. As for Liza, she did not stir from the spot where she
was standing, she did not change her position upon it; from the
concentrated expression of her face, it was evident that she was
praying uninterruptedly and fervently.

At the end of the service she approached the crucifix, and kissed both
it and the large red hand of the priest. Maria Dmitrievna invited him
to take tea. He threw off his stole, assumed a sort of mundane air,
and went into the drawing-room with the ladies. A conversation began,
not of a very lively nature. The priest drank four cups of tea, wiping
the bald part of his head the while with his handkerchief, stated
among other things that the merchant Avoshnikof had given several
hundred roubles towards the gilding of the church's "cumpola," and
favored the company with an unfailing cure for freckles.

Lavretsky tried to get a seat near Liza, but she maintained her
grave, almost austere air, and never once looked at him. She seemed
intentionally to ignore him. A kind of serious, cold enthusiasm
appeared to possess her. For some reason or other Lavretsky felt
inclined to smile, and to utter words of jesting; but his heart was
ill at ease, and at last he went away in a state of secret perplexity.
There was something, he felt, in Liza's mind, which he could not
understand.

On another occasion, as Lavretsky was sitting in the drawing-room,
listening to the insinuating tones of Gedeonovsky's wearisome
verbiage, he suddenly turned round, he knew not why, and caught the
deep, attentive, inquiring look of Liza's eyes. That enigmatical look
was directed towards him. The whole night long Lavretsky thought of
it. His love was not like that of a boy, nor was it consistent with
his age to sigh and to torment himself; and indeed it was not with a
feeling of a merely passionate nature that Liza had inspired him.
But love has its sufferings for every age--and he became perfectly
acquainted with them.

XXXI.

One day Lavretsky was as usual at the Kalitines'. An overpoweringly
hot afternoon had been followed by such a beautiful evening that
Madame Kalitine, notwithstanding her usual aversion to a draught,
ordered all the windows and the doors leading into the garden to be
opened. Moreover, she announced that she was not going to play cards,
that it would be a sin to do so in such lovely weather, and that it
was a duty to enjoy the beauties of na