ice there
sounded the silver notes of early youth. The slightest pleasurable
sensation would bring a fascinating smile to her lips, and add a
deeper light, a kind of secret tenderness, to her already lustrous
eyes. Kind and soft-hearted, thoroughly penetrated by a feeling of
duty, and a fear of injuring any one in any way, she was attached to
all whom she knew, but to no one person in particular. To God
alone did she consecrate her love--loving Him with a timid, tender
enthusiasm. Until Lavretsky came, no one had troubled the calmness of
her inner life.

Such was Liza.

XXXIV.

About the middle of the next day Lavretsky went to the Kalitines'. On
his way there he met Panshine, who galloped past on horseback, his
hat pulled low over his eyes. At the Kalitines', Lavretsky was not
admitted, for the first time since he had made acquaintance with the
family. Maria Dmitrievna was asleep, the footman declared; her head
ached, Marfa Timofeevna and Lizaveta Mikhailovna were not at home.

Lavretsky walked round the outside of the garden in the vague hope of
meeting Liza, but he saw no one. Two hours later he returned to the
house, but received the same answer as before; moreover, the footman
looked at him in a somewhat marked manner. Lavretsky thought it would
be unbecoming to call three times in one day, so he determined to
drive out to Vasilievskoe, where, moreover, he had business to
transact.

On his way there he framed various plans, each one more charming than
the rest. But on his arrival at his aunt's estate, sadness took hold
of him. He entered into conversation with Anton; but the old man, as
if purposely, would dwell on none but gloomy ideas. He told Lavretsky
how Glafira Petrovna, just before her death, had bitten her own hand.
And then, after an interval of silence, he added with a sigh, "Every
man, _barin batyushka_,[A] is destined to devour himself."

[Footnote A: Seigneur, father.]

It was late in the day before Lavretsky set out on his return. The
music he had heard the night before came back into his mind, and the
image of Liza dawned on his heart in all its sweet serenity. He was
touched by the thought that she loved him; and he arrived at his
little house in the town, tranquillized and happy.

The first thing that struck him when he entered the vestibule, was a
smell of patchouli, a perfume he disliked exceedingly. He observed
that a number of large trunks and boxes were standing there, and h