cal sense. He wore
"travelling dress," that is, a greatcoat with a wide patent-leather
belt, fastened with a buckle and a pair of new high boots pulled over
his trousers. Probably he had for some time past pictured a traveller as
looking like this, and the belt and the high boots with the shining tops
like a hussar's, in which he could hardly walk, had been ready some time
before. A broad-brimmed hat, a knitted scarf, twisted close round his
neck, a stick in his right hand, and an exceedingly small but extremely
tightly packed bag in his left, completed his get-up. He had, besides,
in the same right hand, an open umbrella. These three objects--the
umbrella, the stick, and the bag--had been very awkward to carry for the
first mile, and had begun to be heavy by the second.

"Can it really be you?" cried Liza, looking at him with distressed
wonder, after her first rush of instinctive gladness.

_"Lise,"_ cried Stepan Trofimovitch, rushing to her almost in delirium too.
"_Chere, chere_.... Can you be out, too... in such a fog? You see the glow
of fire. _Vous etes malheureuse, n'est-ce pas?_ I see, I see. Don't tell
me, but don't question me either. _Nous sommes tous malheureux mais il
faut les pardonner tous. Pardonnons, Lise,_ and let us be free for ever.
To be quit of the world and be completely free. _Il faut pardonner,
pardonner, et pardonner!"_

"But why are you kneeling down?"

"Because, taking leave of the world, I want to take leave of all my past
in your person!" He wept and raised both her hands to his tear-stained
eyes. "I kneel to all that was beautiful in my life. I kiss and give
thanks! Now I've torn myself in half; left behind a mad visionary who
dreamed of soaring to the sky. _Vingt-deux ans,_ here. A shattered, frozen
old man. A tutor _chez ce marchand, s'il existe pourtant ce
marchand...._ But how drenched you are, _Lise!"_ he cried, jumping on to
his feet, feeling that his knees too were soaked by the wet earth. "And
how is it possible... you are in such a dress... and on foot, and in
these fields?... You are crying! _Vous etes malheureuse._ Bah, I did hear
something.... But where have you come from now?" He asked hurried
questions with an uneasy air, looking in extreme bewilderment at Mavriky
Nikolaevitch. _"Mais savez-vous l'heure qu'il est?"_

"Stepan Trofimovitch, have you heard anything about the people who've
been murdered?... Is it true? Is it true?"

"These people! I saw the glow of their wo