Morning came: they both rose. With strange eyes they gazed at each other. Lavretzky wanted to kill himself at that moment. The cook, Katrina, brought them some bad coffee. The clock struck eight. Lemm put on his hat, and saying that he had a lesson to give at the Kalitins' at nine, but that he would find a decent pretext, set out. Lavretzky again flung himself on the little couch, and again, from the depths of his soul, a sorrowful laugh welled up. He thought of how his wife had driven him out of his house; he pictured to himself Liza's position, closed his eyes, and threw his hands behind his head. At last Lemm returned, and brought him a scrap of paper, on which Liza had scrawled with pencil the following words: "We cannot see each other to-day; perhaps--to-morrow evening. Farewell." Lavretzky quietly and abstractedly thanked Lemm, and went to his own house. He found his wife at breakfast; Ada, all curls, in a white frock with blue ribbons, was eating a mutton chop. Varvara Pavlovna immediately rose, as soon as Lavretzky entered the room, and approached him, with humility depicted on her face. He requested her to follow him to his study, locked the door behind him, and began to stride to and fro; she sat down, laid one hand modestly on the other, and began to watch him with her still beautiful, although slightly painted eyes. For a long time Lavretzky did not speak: he felt that he could not control himself; he perceived clearly, that Varvara Pavlovna was not in the least afraid of him, but was assuming the air of being on the very verge of falling into a swoon. "Listen, madam,"--he began, at last, breathing heavily at times, grinding his teeth:--"there is no necessity for our dissembling with each other; I do not believe in your repentance; and even if it were genuine, it is impossible for me to become reconciled to you, to live with you again." Varvara Pavlovna compressed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "This is disgust,"--she thought:--"of course! I am no longer even a woman to him." "It is impossible,"--repeated Lavretzky, and buttoned up his coat to the throat.--"I do not know why you have taken it into your head to come hither: probably, you have no money left." "Alas! you are insulting me,"--whispered Varvara Pavlovna. "However that may be,--you are, unhappily, my wife, nevertheless. I cannot turn you out ... and this is what I have to propose to you. You may set out, this very day, if you like, for Lavriki, and live there; the house is good, as you know; you will receive all that is necessary, in addition to your allowance.... Do you agree?" Varvara Pavlovna raised her embroidered handkerchief to her eyes. "I have already told you,"--she said, her lips twitching nervously:--"that I shall agree to anything whatever you may see fit to do with me: on this occasion, nothing is left for me to do, except to ask you: will you permit me, at least, to thank you for your magnanimity?"