erstood that her husband silently
thanked her.

The next day they arrived at Lavriki towards evening. A week later
Lavretsky went away to Moscow, having left five thousand roubles at
his wife's disposal; and the day after Lavretsky's departure, Panshine
appeared, whom Varvara Pavlovna had entreated not to forget her in her
solitude. She received him in the most cordial manner; and, till late
that night, the lofty rooms of the mansion and the very garden itself
were enlivened by the sounds of music, and of song, and of joyous
French talk. Panshine spent three days with Varvara Pavlovna. When
saying farewell to her, and warmly pressing her beautiful hands, he
promised to return very soon--and he kept his word.

XLIII.

Liza had a little room of her own on the second floor of her mother's
house, a bright, tidy room, with a bedstead with white curtains in it,
a small writing-table, several flower-pots in the corners and in front
of the windows, and fixed against the wall a set of bookshelves and a
crucifix. It was called the nursery; Liza had been born in it.

After coming back from the church where Lavretsky had seen her, she
set all her things in order with even more than usual care, dusted
every thing, examined all her papers and letters from her friends,
and tied them up with pieces of ribbon, shut up all her drawers, and
watered her flowers, giving each flower a caressing touch. And all
this she did deliberately, quietly, with a kind of sweet and tranquil
earnestness in the expression of her face. At last she stopped still
in the middle of the room and looked slowly around her; then she
approached the table over which hung the crucifix, fell on her knees,
laid her head on her clasped hands, and remained for some time
motionless. Presently Marfa Timofeevna entered the room and found her
in that position. Liza did not perceive her arrival. The old lady went
out of the room on tiptoe, and coughed loudly several times outside
the door. Liza hastily rose and wiped her eyes, which shone, with
gathered but not fallen tears.

"So I see you have arranged your little cell afresh," said Marfa
Timofeevna, bending low over a young rose-tree in one of the
flower-pots. "How sweet this smells!"

Liza looked at her aunt with a meditative air.

"What was that word you used?" she whispered.

"What word--what?" sharply replied the old lady. "It is dreadful," she
continued, suddenly pulling off her cap and sitting down on