“Why, we have been having those--upon my word, what do you call them--duets here. And all in Italian: chi-chi--and cha-cha--like magpies for all the world with their long drawn-out notes as if they’d pull your very soul out. That’s Panshin, and your wife too. And how quickly everything was settled; just as though it were all among relations, without ceremony. However, one may well say, even a dog will try to find a home; and won’t be lost so long as folks don’t drive it out.” “Still, I confess I did not expect this,” rejoined Lavretsky; “there must be great effrontery to do this.” “No, my darling, it’s not effrontery, it’s calculation, God forgive her! They say you are sending her off to Lavriky; is it true?” “Yes, I am giving up that property to Varvara Pavlovna.” “Has she asked you for money?” “Not yet.” “Well, that won’t be long in coming. But I have only now got a look at you. Are you quite well?” “Yes.” “Shurotchka!” cried Marfa Timofyevna suddenly, “run and tell Lisaveta Mihalovna,--at least, no, ask her... is she down-stairs?” “Yes.” “Well, then; ask her where she put my book? she will know.” “Very well.” The old lady grew fidgety again and began opening a drawer in the chest. Lavretsky sat still without stirring in his place. All at once light footsteps were heard on the stairs--and Lisa came in. Lavretsky stood up and bowed; Lisa remained at the door. “Lisa, Lisa, darling,” began Marfa Timofyevna eagerly, “where is my book? where did you put my book?” “What book, auntie?” “Why, goodness me, that book! But I didn’t call you though... There, it doesn’t matter. What are you doing down-stairs? Here Fedor Ivanitch has come. How is your head?” “It’s nothing.” “You keep saying it’s nothing. What have you going on down-stairs--music?” “No--they are playing cards.” “Well, she’s ready for anything. Shurotchka, I see you want a run in the garden--run along.” “Oh, no, Marfa Timofyevna.” “Don’t argue, if you please, run along. Nastasya Karpovna has gone out into the garden all by herself; you keep her company. You must treat the old with respect.”--Shurotchka departed--“But where is my cap? Where has it got to?” “Let me look for it,” said Lisa. “Sit down, sit down; I have still the use of my legs. It must be inside in my bedroom.” And flinging a sidelong glance in Lavretsky’s direction, Marfa Timofyevna went out. She left the door open; but suddenly she came back to it and shut it. Lisa leant back against her chair and quietly covered her face with her hands; Lavretsky remained where he was. “This is how we were to meet again!” he brought out at last. Lisa took her hands from her face. “Yes,” she said faintly: “we were quickly punished.” “Punished,” said Lavretsky.... “What had you done to be punished?” Lisa raised her eyes to him. There was neither sorrow or disquiet expressed in them; they seemed smaller and dimmer. Her face was pale; and pale too her slightly parted lips.