ly
leapt up, unwilling to believe it. But soon a smile gleamed on his
lips--a smile of haughty triumph and at the same time of a blank,
incredulous wonder. The visitor, Mavriky Nikolaevitch, seemed struck by
the expression of that smile as he came in; anyway, he stood still in
the middle of the room as though uncertain whether to come further in or
to turn back. Stavrogin succeeded at once in transforming the expression
of his face, and with an air of grave surprise took a step towards him.
The visitor did not take his outstretched hand, but awkwardly moved a
chair and, not uttering a word, sat down without waiting for his host to
do so. Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch sat down on the sofa facing him obliquely
and, looking at Mavriky Nikolaevitch, waited in silence.

"If you can, marry Lizaveta Nikolaevna," Mavriky Nikolaevitch brought
out suddenly at last, and what was most curious, it was impossible
to tell from his tone whether it was an entreaty, a recommendation, a
surrender, or a command.

Stavrogin still remained silent, but the visitor had evidently said all
he had come to say and gazed at him persistently, waiting for an answer.

"If I am not mistaken (but it's quite certain), Lizaveta Nikolaevna is
already betrothed to you," Stavrogin said at last.

"Promised and betrothed," Mavriky Nikolaevitch assented firmly and
clearly.

"You have... quarrelled? Excuse me, Mavriky Nikolaevitch."

"No, she 'loves and respects me'; those are her words. Her words are
more precious than anything."

"Of that there can be no doubt."

"But let me tell you, if she were standing in the church at her wedding
and you were to call her, she'd give up me and every one and go to you."

"From the wedding?"

"Yes, and after the wedding."

"Aren't you making a mistake?"

"No. Under her persistent, sincere, and intense hatred for you love is
flashing out at every moment... and madness... the sincerest infinite
love and... madness! On the contrary, behind the love she feels for me,
which is sincere too, every moment there are flashes of hatred... the
most intense hatred! I could never have fancied all these transitions...
before."

"But I wonder, though, how could you come here and dispose of the hand
of Lizaveta Nikolaevna? Have you the right to do so? Has she authorised
you?"

Mavriky Nikolaevitch frowned and for a minute he looked down.

"That's all words on your part," he brought out suddenly, "words of
revenge and triumph; I