turned towards the door.

"You are going away?" exclaimed his wife, in accents of despair. "Oh,
that is cruel! without saying a single word to me--not even one of
reproach! This contempt kills me; it is dreadful!"

Lavretsky stopped.

"What do you want me to say to you?" he said in a hollow tone.

"Nothing--nothing!" she cried with animation. "I know that I have no
right to demand anything. I am no fool, believe me. I don't hope, I
don't dare to hope, for pardon. I only venture to entreat you to tell
me what I ought to do, where I ought to live. I will obey your orders
like a slave, whatever they may be."

"I have no orders to give," replied Lavretsky in the same tone as
before. "You know that all is over between us--and more than ever now.
You can live where you like; and if your allowance is too small--"

"Ah, don't say such terrible things!" she said, interrupting him.
"Forgive me, if only--if only for the sake of this angel."

And having uttered these words, Varvara Pavlovna suddenly rushed
into the other room, and immediately returned with a very
tastefully-dressed little girl in her arms. Thick flaxen curls fell
about the pretty little rosy face and over the great black, sleepy
eyes of the child, who smilingly blinked at the light, and held on to
her mother's neck by a chubby little arm.

"_Ada, vois, c'est ton pere_," said Varvara Pavlovna, removing
the curls from the child's eyes, and kissing her demonstratively.
"_Prie-le avec moi_."

"_C'est la, papa_?" the little girl lispingly began to stammer.

"_Oui, mon enfant, n'est-ce pas que tu l'aimes_?"

But the interview had become intolerable to Lavretsky. ;'

"What melodrama is it just such a scene occurs; in?" he muttered, and
left the room.

Varvara Pavlovna remained standing where she was for some time, then
she slightly shrugged her shoulders, took the little girl back into
the other room, undressed her, and put her to bed. Then she took a
book and sat down near the lamp. There she waited about an hour, but
at last she went to bed herself.

"_Eh bien, madame_?" asked her maid,--a Frenchwoman whom she had
brought with her from Paris,--as she unlaced her stays.

"_Eh bien_, Justine!" replied Varvara Pavlovna. "He has aged a great
deal, but I think he is just as good as ever. Give me my gloves for
the night, and get the gray dress, the high one, ready for to-morrow
morning--and don't forget the mutton cutlets for Ada. To be sure it
will be dif