"Ah!"—said Lavrétzky, and relapsed into silence. A half-mournful, half-sneering expression flitted across his face. His tenacious gaze discomfited Liza, but she continued to smile. "Well, God grant them happiness!"—he muttered, at last, as though to himself, and turned away his head.
Liza blushed.
"You are mistaken, Feódor Ivánitch,"—she said:—"there is no cause for your thinking.... But do not you like Vladímir Nikoláitch?"
"I do not."
"Why?"
"It seems to me, that he has no heart."
The smile vanished from Liza's face.
"You have become accustomed to judge people harshly,"—she said, after a long silence.
"I think not. What right have I to judge others harshly, when I myself stand in need of indulgence? Or have you forgotten that a lazy man is the only one who does not laugh at me?... Well,"—he added:—"and have you kept your promise?"
"What promise?"