Marya Dmitrievna did not receive Lavretzky with any excess of cordiality, when he presented himself on the following day. "Well, you are making yourself pretty free of the house,"--she said to herself. Personally, he did not greatly please her, and, in addition, Panshin, under whose influence she was, had sung his praises in a very sly and careless manner on the preceding evening. As she did not look upon him in the light of a guest, and did not consider it necessary to trouble herself about a relative almost a member of the family, half an hour had not elapsed before he was strolling down an alley in the garden with Liza. Lyenotchka and Schurotchka were frolicking a short distance away, among the flower-beds. Liza was composed, as usual, but paler than usual. She took from her pocket and handed to Lavretzky the sheet of newspaper, folded small. "This is dreadful!"--said she. Lavretzky made no reply. "But perhaps it is not yet true,"--added Liza. "That is why I asked you not to mention it to any one." Liza walked on a little way. "Tell me,"--she began:--"you are not grieved? Not in the least?" "I do not know myself what my feelings are,"--replied Lavretzky. "But, assuredly, you used to love her?" "Yes, I did." "Very much?" "Very much." "And you are not grieved by her death?" "It is not now that she has died to me." "What you say is sinful.... Do not be angry with me. You call me your friend: a friend may say anything. To tell the truth, I feel terrified.... Your face was so malign yesterday.... Do you remember, how you were complaining of her, not long ago?--and perhaps, already, at that very time, she was no longer alive. This is terrible. It is exactly as though it had been sent to you as a chastisement." Lavretzky laughed bitterly. "Do you think so?... At all events, I am free now." Liza gave a slight start. "Stop, do not talk like that. Of what use to you is your freedom? You must not think about that now, but about forgiveness...." "I forgave her long ago,"--interrupted Lavretzky, with a wave of the hand. "No, not that,"--returned Liza, and blushed. "You did not understand me rightly. You must take means to obtain forgiveness...." "Who is there to forgive me?" "Who?--God. Who else but God can forgive us?" Lavretzky caught her hand. "Akh, Lizaveta Mikhailovna, believe me,"--he exclaimed:--"I have been sufficiently punished as it is. I have already atoned for everything, believe me." "You cannot know that,"--said Liza in a low voice. "You have forgotten;--not very long ago,--when you were talking to me,--you were not willing to forgive her...." The two walked silently down the alley. "And how about your daughter?"--Liza suddenly inquired, and halted. Lavretzky started. "Oh, do not worry yourself! I have already despatched letters to all the proper places. The future of my daughter, as you call ... as you say ... is assured. Do not disquiet yourself." Liza smiled sadly.