"Ah, here thou art, here thou art,"--she began, avoiding his gaze, and bustling about--"well, how do you do? Come, what now? What is to be done? Where wert thou yesterday? Well, she has come,--well, yes. Well, we must just ... somehow or other." Lavretzky dropped into a chair. "Come, sit down, sit down,"--went on the old woman.--"Thou hast come straight up-stairs. Well, yes, of course. What? thou art come to look at me? Thanks." The old woman was silent for a while; Lavretzky did not know what to say to her; but she understood him. "Liza ... yes, Liza was here just now,"--went on Marfa Timofeevna, tying and untying the cords of her reticule. "She is not quite well. Schurotchka, where art thou? Come hither, my mother, why canst thou not sit still? And I have a headache. It must be from _that_--from the singing and from the music." "From what singing, aunty?" "Why, of course, they keep singing--what do you call it?--duets. And always in Italian: _tchi-tchi_, and _tcha-tcha_, regular magpies. They begin to drag the notes out, and it's just like tugging at your soul. Panshin and that wife of yours. And all that has come about so quickly; already they are on the footing of relatives, they do not stand on ceremony. However, I will say this much: even a dog seeks a refuge; no harm will come to her, so long as people don't turn her out." "Nevertheless, I must confess that I did not expect this,"--replied Lavretzky:--"it must have required great boldness." "No, my dear soul, that is not boldness; it is calculation. The Lord be with her--I want nothing to do with her! They tell me that thou art sending her to Lavriki,--is it true?" "Yes, I am placing that estate at the disposal of Varvara Pavlovna." "Has she asked for money?" "Not yet." "Well, it will not be long before she does. But I have only just taken a good look at thee. Art thou well?" "Yes." "Schurotchka,"--suddenly cried Marfa Timofeevna:--"go, and tell Lizaveta Mikhailovna--that is to say, no, ask her ... she's down-stairs, isn't she?" "Yes, ma'am." "Well, yes; then ask her: 'Where did she put my book?' She knows." "I obey, ma'am." Again the old woman began to bustle about, and to open the drawers of her commode. Lavretzky sat motionless on his chair. Suddenly light footsteps became audible on the stairs--and Liza entered. Lavretzky rose to his feet, and bowed; Liza halted by the door. "Liza, Lizotchka,"--said Marfa Timofeevna hastily;--"where is my book, where didst thou put my book?" "What book, aunty?" "Why, my book; good heavens! However, I did not call thee.... Well, it makes no difference. What are you doing there--down-stairs? See here, Feodor Ivanitch has come.--How is thy head?" "It is all right." "Thou art always saying: 'It is all right.' What's going on with you down-stairs,--music again?" "No--they are playing cards." "Yes, of course, she is up to everything. Schurotchka, I perceive that thou wishest to have a run in the garden. Go along."