"Wait, Márya Dmítrievna,"—Lavrétzky interrupted her, in a dull, but quivering voice:—"you are, probably, fond of sentimental scenes," (Lavrétzky was not mistaken: Márya Dmítrievna had retained from her boarding-school days a passion for a certain theatricalness); "they amuse you; but others suffer from them. However, I will not discuss the matter with you; in this scene you are not the principal actor. What do you want of me, madam?"—he added, addressing his wife. "Have not I done for you all that I could? Do not retort, that you have not plotted this meeting; I shall not believe you,—and you know that I cannot believe you. What, then, do you want? You are clever,—you never do anything without an object. You must understand that I am not capable of living with you as I used to live; not because I am angry with you, but because I have become a different man. I told you that on the day after your return, and you yourself, at that moment, acquiesced with me in your own soul. But you wish to reinstate yourself in public opinion; it is not enough for you to live in my house, you want to live under one roof with me,—is not that the truth?"
"I want you to forgive me,"—said Varvára Pávlovna, without raising her eyes.
"She wants you to forgive her,"—repeated Márya Dmítrievna.
"And not for my own sake, but for Ada's,"—whispered Varvára Pávlovna.
"Not for her sake, but for Ada's,"—repeated Márya Dmítrievna.
"Very good. You wish that?"—ejaculated Lavrétzky, with an effort. "As you like, I agree to that."
Varvára Pávlovna cast a swift glance at him, and Márya Dmítrievna cried out:—"Well, God be praised"—and again tugged at Varvára Pávlovna's hand. "Now receive from me...."
"Wait, I tell you,"—Lavrétzky interrupted her. "I consent to live with you, Varvára Pávlovna,"—he continued:—"That is to say, I will take you to Lavríki, and I will live with you as long as my strength holds out, and then I shall go away,—and return now and then. You see, I do not wish to deceive you; but do not demand anything more. You yourself would smile, were I to comply with the desire of your respected relative, and press you to my heart, and assure you that ... there had been no past, that the felled tree could burst into blossom once more. But I perceive that I must submit. You will not understand that word; ... it matters not. I repeat, I will live with you ... or, no, I cannot promise that ... I will join you, I will regard you again as my wife...."
"But give her your hand on that, at least,"—said Márya Dmítrievna, whose tears were long since dried up.
"Up to the present moment, I have not deceived Varvára Pávlovna,"—returned Lavrétzky;—"she will believe me as it is. I will take her to Lavríki;—and recollect, Varvára Pávlovna: our compact will be regarded as broken just as soon as you leave that place. And now, permit me to withdraw."