The day of the arrival of Lavretzky's wife in town of O * * *, a cheerless day for him, was also a painful day for Liza. She had not succeeded in going down-stairs and bidding her mother "good morning," before the trampling of a horse's hoofs resounded under the window, and with secret terror she beheld Panshin riding into the yard: "He has presented himself thus early for a definitive explanation,"--she thought--and she was not mistaken; after spending a while in the drawing-room, he suggested that she should go with him into the garden, and demanded her decision as to his fate. Liza summoned up her courage, and informed him that she could not be his wife. He listened to her to the end, as he stood with his side toward her, and his hat pulled down on his brows; courteously, but in an altered tone, he asked her: was that her last word, and had he, in any way, given her cause for such a change in her ideas? then he pressed his hand to his eyes, sighed briefly and abruptly, and removed his hand from his face. "I have not wished to follow the beaten path,"--he said, in a dull voice,--"I have wished to find my companion after the inclination of the heart; but, evidently, that was not destined to be. Farewell, dream!"--He bowed profoundly to Liza, and returned to the house. She hoped that he would immediately take his departure; but he went into Marya Dmitrievna's boudoir, and sat with her for about an hour. As he went away, he said to Liza: "_Votre mere vous appelle; adieu a jamais_ ..." mounted his horse, and set off from the very porch at full gallop. Liza went in to Marya Dmitrievna, and found her in tears: Panshin had communicated to her his misfortune. "Why hast thou killed me? Why hast thou killed me?"--in this wise did the mortified widow begin her complaints.--"Whom else didst thou want? What! is not he a suitable husband for thee? A Junior Gentleman of the Emperor's Bedchamber! not _interessant_! He might marry any Maid of Honour he chose in Petersburg. And I--I had been hoping so! And hast thou changed long toward him? What has sent this cloud drifting hither--it did not come of itself! Can it be that ninny? A pretty counsellor thou hast found! "And he, my dear one,"--pursued Marya Dmitrievna:--"how respectful, how attentive, even in his own grief! He has promised not to abandon me. Akh, I shall not survive this! Akh, I have got a deadly headache. Send Palasha to me. Thou wilt be the death of me, if thou dost not change thy mind,--dost thou hear?" And calling her an ingrate a couple of times, Marya Dmitrievna sent Liza away.