“Stop a minute, Marya Dmitrievna,” said Lavretsky in a low but startlingly impressive voice. “I dare say you are fond of affecting scenes” (Lavretsky was right, Marya Dmitrievna still retained her school-girl’s passion for a little melodramatic effect), “they amuse you; but they may be anything but pleasant for other people. But I am not going to talk to you; in this scene you are not the principal character. What do you want to get out of me, madam?” he added, turning to his wife. “Haven’t I done all I could for you? Don’t tell me you did not contrive this interview; I shall not believe you--and you know that I cannot possibly believe you. What is it you want? You are clever--you do nothing without an object. You must realise, that as for living with, as I once lived with you, that I cannot do; not because I am angry with you, but because I have become a different man. I told you so the day after your return, and you yourself, at that moment, agreed with me in your heart. But you want to reinstate yourself in public opinion; it is not enough for you to live in my house, you want to live with me under the same roof--isn’t that it?” “I want your forgiveness,” pronounced Varvara Pavlovna, not raising her eyes. “She wants your forgiveness,” repeated Marya Dmitrievna. “And not for my own sake, but for Ada’s,” murmured Varvara Pavlovna. “And not for her own sake, but for your Ada’s,” repeated Marya Dmitrievna. “Very good. Is that what you want?” Lavretsky uttered with an effort. “Certainly, I consent to that too.” Varvara Pavlovna darted a swift glance at him, but Marya Dmitrievna cried: “There, God be thanked!” and again drew Varvara Pavlvona forward by the arm. “Take her now from my arms--” “Stop a minute, I tell you,” Lavretsky interrupted her, “I agree to live with you, Varvara Pavlovna,” he continued, “that is to say, I will conduct you to Lavriky, and I will live there with you, as long as I can endure it, and then I will go away--and will come back again. You see, I do not want to deceive you; but do not demand anything more. You would laugh yourself if I were to carry out the desire of our respected cousin, were to press you to my breast, and to fall to assuring you that ... that the past had not been; and the felled tree can bud again. But I see, I must submit. You will not understand these words... but that’s no matter. I repeat, I will live with you... or no, I cannot promise that... I will be reconciled with you, I will regard you as my wife again.” “Give her, at least your hand on it,” observed Marya Dmitrievna, whose tears had long since dried up. “I have never deceived Varvara Pavlovna hitherto,” returned Lavretsky; “she will believe me without that. I will take her to Lavriky; and remember, Varvara Pavlovna, our treaty is to be reckoned as broken directly you go away from Lavriky. And now allow me to take leave.” He bowed to both the ladies, and hurriedly went away.