Lyénotchka made her appearance on the threshold of the door, accompanied by a maid.
"See that you do not forget us,"—said Liza, and descended the steps.
"And do not you forget me. And see here,"—he added,—"you are going to church: pray for me also, by the way."
Liza paused and turned toward him.
"Certainly,"—she said, looking him straight in the face:—"I will pray for you. Come along, Lyénotchka."
Lavrétzky found Márya Dmítrievna alone in the drawing-room. An odour of eau de cologne and mint emanated from her. She had a headache, according to her own account, and she had passed a restless night. She welcomed him with her customary languid amiability, and gradually got to talking.
"What an agreeable young man Vladímir Nikoláitch is," she inquired:—"is he not?"
"What Vladímir Nikoláitch?"
"Why, Pánshin, you know,—the one who was here yesterday evening. He took an immense liking to you; I will tell you, as a secret, mon cher cousin, he is simply beside himself over my Liza. What do you think of that? He comes of a good family, he discharges his service splendidly, he is clever, well, and a Junior Gentleman of the Bedchamber, and if it be God's will.... I, on my side, as a mother, shall be very glad. It is a great responsibility, of course: up to the present time, whether it be for good or evil, you see, I am always, everywhere, entirely alone: I have reared my children, I have taught them, I have done everything ... and now I have ordered a governess from Mme. Bolius...."
Márya Dmítrievna launched out into a description of her toils, her efforts, and her maternal feelings. Lavrétzky listened to her in silence, and twirled his hat in his hands. His cold, heavy gaze disconcerted the loquacious lady.