"Well,"—inquired Lavrétzky,—"and is Liza not indifferent to him?"
"Apparently, she likes him,—however, the Lord only knows. Another man's soul, thou knowest, is a dark forest, much more the soul of a young girl. Now, there's Schúrotchka's soul—try to dissect that! Why has she been hiding herself, and yet does not go away, ever since thou camest?"
Schúrotchka snorted with suppressed laughter and ran out of the room, and Lavrétzky rose from his seat.
"Yes,"—he said slowly:—"a maiden's soul is not to be divined."
He began to take leave.
"Well? Shall we see thee again soon?"—asked Márfa Timoféevna.
"That's as it may happen, aunty; it is not far off."
"Yes, but thou art going to Vasílievskoe. Thou wilt not live at Lavríki:—well, that is thy affair; only, go and salute the tomb of thy mother, and the tomb of thy grandmother too, by the bye. Thou hast acquired all sorts of learning yonder abroad, and who knows, perchance they will feel it in their graves that thou hast come to them. And don't forget, Fédya, to have a requiem service celebrated for Glafíra Petróvna also; here's a silver ruble for thee. Take it, take it, I want to pay for having a requiem service for her. During her lifetime I did not like her, but there's no denying it, the woman had plenty of character. She was a clever creature; and she did not wrong thee, either. And now go, with God's blessing, or thou wilt grow weary of me."
And Márfa Timoféevna embraced her nephew.
"And Liza shall not marry Pánshin,—don't worry about that; that's not the sort of husband she deserves."