d
perhaps be rich. If it is not to be, it is not to be--and all is over.
I will betake me to my work with set teeth, and I will force myself to
be silent; and I shall succeed, for it is not for the first time that
I take myself in hand. And why have I run away? Why do I stop here,
vainly hiding my head, like an ostrich? Misfortune a terrible thing to
look in the face! Nonsense!"

[Footnote A: See note to page 142.]

"Anton!" he called loudly, "let the tarantass be got ready
immediately."

"Yes," he said to himself again. "I must compel myself to be silent; I
must keep myself tightly in hand."

With such reflections as these Lavretsky sought to assuage his sorrow;
but it remained as great and as bitter as before. Even Apraxia, who
had outlived, not only her intelligence, but almost all her faculties,
shook her head, and followed him with sad eyes as he started in
the tarantass for the town. The horses galloped. He sat erect and
motionless, and looked straight along the road.

XL.

Liza had written to Lavretsky the night before telling him to come and
see her on this evening; but he went to his own house first. He did
not find either his wife or his daughter there; and the servant told
him that they had both gone to the Kalitines'! This piece of news both
annoyed and enraged him. "Varvara Pavlovna seems to be determined not
to let me live in peace," he thought, an angry feeling stirring in
his heart. He began walking up and down the room, pushing away every
moment, with hand or foot, one of the toys or books or feminine
belongings which fell in his way. Then he called Justine, and told her
to take away all that "rubbish."

"_Oui, monsieur_," she replied, with a grimace, and began to set the
room in order, bending herself into graceful attitudes, and by each
of her gestures making Lavretsky feel that she considered him an
uncivilized bear. It was with a sensation of downright hatred that he
watched the mocking expression of her faded, but still _piquante_,
Parisian face, and looked at her white sleeves, her silk apron, and
her little cap. At last he sent her away, and, after long hesitation,
as Varvara Pavlovna did not return, he determined to go to the
Kalitines', and pay a visit, not to Madame Kalitine (for nothing would
have induced him to enter her drawing-room--that drawing-room in which
his wife was), but to Marfa Timofeevna. He remembered that a back
staircase, used by the maid-servants, led straig