“I do not even ask of you... what you say; do not live with her, if you cannot; but be reconciled,” replied Lisa and again she hid her eyes in her hand.—“remember your little girl; do it for my sake.”
“Very well,” Lavretsky muttered between his teeth: “I will do that, I suppose in that I shall fulfill my duty. But you—what does your duty consist in?”
“That I know myself.”
Lavretsky started suddenly.
“You cannot be making up your mind to marry Panshin?” he said.
Lisa gave an almost imperceptible smile.
“Oh, no!” she said.
“Ah, Lisa, Lisa!” cried Lavretsky, “how happy you might have been!”
Lisa looked at him again.
“Now you see yourself, Fedor Ivanitch, that happiness does not depend on us, but on God.”