"Home, to Vasilievskoe." "To-morrow?" "Yes." "Well, if it must be to-morrow, it must. God be with thee,--thou knowest best. Only, see here, thou must come to say farewell."--The old woman tapped him on the cheek.--"I did not think I should live to see thee; and that not because I was preparing to die; no--I am good for another ten years, probably: all we Pestoffs are tenacious of life; thy deceased grandfather used to call us double-lived; but the Lord only knew how much longer thou wouldst ramble about abroad. Well, but thou art a dashing fine fellow, a fine fellow; thou canst still lift ten puds in one hand as of yore, I suppose? Thy deceased father, excuse me, was cranky in some respects, but he did well when he hired a Swiss for thee; thou rememberest, how thou and he had fistfights; that's called gymnastics, isn't it?--But why have I been cackling thus? I have only been keeping Mr. Panshin" (she never called him Panshin, as she ought) "from arguing. But we had better drink tea; let us go and drink it on the terrace, my dear; our cream--is not like what you get in your Londons and Parises. Let us go, let us go, and do thou, Fediusha, give me thy arm. O! how thick it is! There's no danger of falling with thee." All rose and betook themselves to the terrace, with the exception of Gedeonovsky, who quietly departed. During the entire duration of Lavretzky's conversation with the mistress of the house, Panshin, and Marfa Timofeevna, he had sat in a corner, attentively blinking, and sticking out his lips, in childish curiosity: he now hastened to carry the news about the new visitor throughout the town. * * * * * On that same day, at eleven o'clock in the evening, this is what was going on at Mme. Kalitin's house. Down-stairs, on the threshold of the drawing-room, Vladimir Nikolaitch, having seized a favourable moment, was saying farewell to Liza, and telling her, as he held her hand: "You know who it is that attracts me hither; you know why I am incessantly coming to your house; what is the use of words, when everything is so plain?" Liza made him no reply, and without a smile, and with eyebrows slightly elevated, and blushing, she stared at the floor, but did not withdraw her hand; and up-stairs, in Marfa Timofeevna's chamber, by the light of the shrine-lamp, which hung in front of the dim, ancient holy pictures, Lavretzky was sitting in an arm-chair, with his elbows on his knees, and his face in his hands; the old woman, standing before him, was silently stroking his hair, from time to time. He spent more than an hour with her, after taking leave of the mistress of the house; he said almost nothing to his kind old friend, and she did not interrogate him.... And what was the use of talking, what was there to interrogate him about? She understood everything as it was, and she sympathised with everything wherewith his heart was full to overflowing. VIII