Pavel Pavlovitch looked pale, and his hands shook; Velchaninoff saw that plainly enough, although he did his best not to see the man at all. He (Velchaninoff) had but one thought, and that was how to get away at once! Downstairs was old Maria Sisevna, waiting to say good-bye; and more kissing was done. Liza had just climbed into the carriage when suddenly she caught sight of her father’s face; she gave a loud cry and wrung her hands,—in another minute she would have been out of the carriage and away, but luckily the vehicle went on and she was too late! CHAPTER VI. “Are you feeling faint?” asked Velchaninoff of his companion, frightened out of his wits: “I’ll tell him to stop and get you some water, shall I?” She looked at him angrily and reproachfully. “Where are you taking me to?” she asked coldly and abruptly. “To a very beautiful house, Liza. There are plenty of children,—they’ll all love you there, they are so kind! Don’t be angry with me, Liza; I wish you well, you know!” In truth, Velchaninoff would have looked strange at this moment to any acquaintance, if such had happened to see him! “How—how—how—oh! _how_ wicked you are!” said Liza, fighting with suppressed tears, and flashing her fine angry eyes at him. “But Liza—I——” “You are bad—bad—and wicked!” cried Liza. She wrung her hands. Velchaninoff was beside himself. “Oh, Liza, Liza! if only you knew what despair you are causing me!” he said. “Is it true that he is coming down to-morrow?” asked the child haughtily—“is it true or not?” “Quite true—I shall bring him down myself,—I shall take him and bring him!” “He will deceive you somehow!” cried the child, drooping her eyes. “Doesn’t he love you, then, Liza?” “No.” “Has he ill-treated you,—has he?” Liza looked gloomily at her questioner, and said nothing. She then turned away from him and sat still and depressed. Velchaninoff commenced to talk: he tried to win her,—he spoke warmly—excitedly—feverishly. Liza listened incredulously and with a hostile air,—but still she listened. Her attention delighted him beyond measure;—he went so far as to explain to her what it meant when a man took to drink. He said that he loved her and would himself look after her father. At last Liza raised her eyes and gazed fixedly at him. Then Velchaninoff began to speak of her mother and of how well he had known her; and he saw that his tales attracted her. Little by little she began to reply to his questions, but very cautiously and in an obstinately monosyllabic way. She would answer nothing to his chief inquiries; as to her former relations with her father, for instance, she maintained an obstinate silence. While speaking to her, Velchaninoff held the child’s hand in his own, as before; and she did not try to take it away.