"I had trouble enough to find it," she said, standing between Liza and
Lavretsky; "I had stuffed it away myself. Dear me, see what old age
comes to! But, after all, youth is no better. Well, are you going to
Lavriki with your wife?" she added, turning to Fedor Ivanovich.
"To Lavriki with her? I?—I don't know," he added, after a short pause.
"Won't you pay a visit down stairs?"
"Not to-day."
"Well, very good; do as you please. But you, Liza, ought to go down-stairs, I think. Ah! my dears. I've forgotten to give any seed to my bullfinch too. Wait a minute; I will be back directly."
And Marfa Timofeevna ran out of the room without even having put on her cap.
Lavretsky quickly drew near to Liza.
"Liza," he began, with an imploring voice, "we are about to part for ever, and my heart is very heavy. Give me your hand at parting."
Liza raised her head. Her wearied, almost lustre less eyes looked at him steadily.
"No," she said, and drew back the hand she had half held out to him. "No, Lavretsky" (it was the first time that she called him by this name), "I will not give you my hand. Why should I? And now leave me, I beseech you. You know that I love you—Yes, I love you!" she added emphatically. "But no—no;" and she raised her handkerchief to her lips.