“Don’t be angry, forgive me,” Lisa faltered hurriedly.
At that instant Marya Dmitrievna came in. Lisa got up and was going away.
“Stop a minute,” Lavretsky cried after her unexpectedly. “I have a great favour to beg of your mother and you; to pay me a visit in my new abode. You know, I have had a piano sent over; Lemm is staying with me; the lilac is in flower now; you will get a breath of country air, and you can return the same day—will you consent?” Lisa looked towards her mother; Marya Dmitrievna was assuming an expression of suffering; but Lavretsky did not give her time to open her mouth; he at once kissed both her hands. Marya Dmitrievna, who was always susceptible to demonstrations of feeling, and did not at all anticipate such effusivements from the “dolt,” was melted and gave her consent. While she was deliberating which day to fix, Lavretsky went up to Lisa, and, still greatly moved, whispered to her aside: “Thank you, you are a good girl; I was to blame.” And her pale face glowed with a bright, shy smile; her eyes smiled too—up to that instant she had been afraid she had offended him.
“Vladimir Nikolaitch can come with us?” inquired Marya Dmitrievna.
“Yes,” replied Lavretsky, “but would it not be better to be just a family party?”
“Well, you know, it seems,” began Marya Dmitrievna. “But as you please,” she added.
It was decided to take Lenotchka and Shurotchka. Marfa Timofyevna refused to join in the expedition.
“It is hard for me, my darling,” she said, “to give my old bones a shaking; and to be sure there’s nowhere for me to sleep at your place: besides, I can’t sleep in a strange bed. Let the young folks go frolicking.”
Lavretsky did not succeed in being alone again with Lisa; but he looked at her in such a way that she felt her heart at rest, and a little ashamed, and sorry for him. He pressed her hand warmly at parting; left alone, she fell to musing.