"Mamma likes him," continued Liza. "He is good: I have no fault to find with him." "But still you waver?" "Yes--and, perhaps--you, your words are the cause of that. Do you remember what you said the day before yesterday? But all that is weakness--" "Oh, my child!" suddenly exclaimed Lavretsky, and his voice trembled as he spoke, "don't be fatally wise--don't stigmatize as weakness the cry of your heart, unwilling to give itself away without love! Do not take upon yourself so fearful a responsibility towards that man, whom you do not love, and yet to whom you would be about to belong." "I shall only be obeying; I shall be taking nothing upon myself," began Liza. "Obey your own heart, then. It only will tell you the truth," said Lavretsky, interrupting her. "Wisdom, experience--all that is mere vanity and vexation. Do not deprive yourself of the best, the only real happiness upon earth." "And do you speak in that way. Fedor Ivanovich? You married for love yourself--and were you happy?" Lavretsky clasped his hands above his head. "Ah! do not talk about me. You cannot form any idea of what a young, inexperienced, absurdly brought-up boy may imagine to be love. However, why should one calumniate one's self? I told you just now I had never known happiness. No! I have been happy." "I think, Fedor Ivanovich," said Liza, lowering her voice--she always lowered her voice when she differed from the person she was speaking to; besides, she felt considerably agitated just then--"our happiness upon earth does not depend upon ourselves--" "It does depend upon ourselves--upon ourselves:" here he seized both her hands. Liza grew pale and looked at him earnestly, but almost with alarm--"at least if we do not ruin our own lives. For some people a love match may turn out unhappily, but not for you, with your calmness of temperament; with your serenity of soul. I do beseech you not to marry without love, merely from a feeling of duty, self-denial, or the like. All that is sheer infidelity, and moreover a matter of calculation--and worse still. Trust my words. I have a right to say this; a right for which I have paid dearly. And if your God--" At that moment Lavretsky became aware that Lenochka and Shurochka were standing by Liza's side, and were staring at him with intense astonishment. He dropped Liza's hands, saying hastily, "Forgive me," and walked away towards the house. "There is only one thing I have to ask you," he said, coming back to Liza. "Don't make up your mind directly, but wait a little, and think over what I have said to you. And even if you don't believe my words, but are determined to marry in accordance with the dictates of mere prudence--even, in that case, Mr. Panshine is not the man you ought to marry. He must not be your husband. You will promise me not to be hasty, won't you?"