e life? The thirst after happiness--the old thirst after
happiness. "It seems that Mikhalevich was right after all," he
thought. "You wanted to find happiness in life once more," he said to
himself. "You forgot that for happiness to visit a man even once is
an undeserved favor, a steeping in luxury. Your happiness was
incomplete--was false, you may say. Well, show what right you have to
true and complete happiness! Look around you and see who is happy, who
enjoys his life! There is a peasant going to the field to mow. It may
be that he is satisfied with his lot. But what of that? Would you
be willing to exchange lots with him? Remember your own mother. How
exceedingly modest were her wishes, and yet what sort of a lot fell to
her share! You seem to have only been boasting before Panshine, when
you told him that you had come into Russia to till the soil. It was to
run after the girls in your old age that you came. Tidings of freedom,
reached you, and you flung aside every thing, forgot every thing, ran
like a child after a butterfly."

In the midst of his reflections the image of Liza constantly haunted
him. By a violent effort he tried to drive it away, and along with it
another haunting face, other beautiful but ever malignant and hateful
features.

Old Anton remarked that his master was not quite himself; and after
sighing several times behind the door, and several times on the
threshold, he ventured to go up to him, and advised him to drink
something hot. Lavretsky spoke to him harshly, and ordered him out of
the room: afterwards he told the old man he was sorry he had done so;
but this only made Anton sadder than he had been before.

Lavretsky could not stop in the drawing-room. He fancied that his
great grandfather, Andrei, was looking out from his frame with
contempt on his feeble descendant. "So much for you! You float in
shallow water!"[A] the wry lips seemed to be saying to him. "Is it
possible," he thought, "that I cannot gain mastery over myself; that
I am going to yield to this--this trifling affair!" (Men who are
seriously wounded in a battle always think their wounds "a mere
trifle;" when a man can deceive himself no longer, it is time to give
up living). "Am I really a child? Well, yes I have seen near at
hand, I have almost grasped, the possibility of gaining a life-long
happiness--and then it has suddenly disappeared. It is just the same
in a lottery. Turn the wheel a little more, and the pauper woul