e he's sitting; he
doesn't see us. I say, Lizaveta Nikolaevna, have you ever read 'Polenka
Saxe'?"

"What's that?"

"It's the name of a novel, 'Polenka Saxe.' I read it when I was a
student.... In it a very wealthy official of some sort, Saxe, arrested
his wife at a summer villa for infidelity.... But, hang it; it's no
consequence! You'll see, Mavriky Nikolaevitch will make you an offer
before you get home. He doesn't see us yet."

"Ach! Don't let him see us!" Liza cried suddenly, like a mad creature.
"Come away, come away! To the woods, to the fields!"

And she ran back.

"Lizaveta Nikolaevna, this is such cowardice," cried Pyotr Stepanovitch,
running after her. "And why don't you want him to see you? On the
contrary, you must look him straight in the face, with pride.... If it's
some feeling about that... some maidenly... that's such a prejudice, so
out of date... But where are you going? Where are you going? Ech! she is
running! Better go back to Stavrogin's and take my droshky.... Where are
you going? That's the way to the fields! There! She's fallen down!..."

He stopped. Liza was flying along like a bird, not conscious where she
was going, and Pyotr Stepanovitch was already fifty paces behind her.
She stumbled over a mound of earth and fell down. At the same moment
there was the sound of a terrible shout from behind. It came from
Mavriky Nikolaevitch, who had seen her flight and her fall, and was
running to her across the field. In a flash Pyotr Stepanovitch had
retired into Stavrogin's gateway to make haste and get into his droshky.

Mavriky Nikolaevitch was already standing in terrible alarm by Liza, who
had risen to her feet; he was bending over her and holding her hands in
both of his. All the incredible surroundings of this meeting overwhelmed
him, and tears were rolling down his cheeks. He saw the woman for whom
he had such reverent devotion running madly across the fields, at such
an hour, in such weather, with nothing over her dress, the gay dress she
wore the day before now crumpled and muddy from her fall.... He could
not utter a word; he took off his greatcoat, and with trembling hands
put it round her shoulders. Suddenly he uttered a cry, feeling that she
had pressed her lips to his hand.

"Liza," he cried, "I am no good for anything, but don't drive me away
from you!"

"Oh, no! Let us make haste away from here. Don't leave me!" and, seizing
his hand, she drew him after her. "Mavriky Nikolae