Lavretsky followed her out of the church, and came up with her in the street. She was walking very fast, her head drooping, her veil pulled low over her face.
"Good-day, Lizaveta Mikhailovna," he said in a loud voice, with feigned indifference. "May I accompany you?"
She made no reply. He walked on by her side.
"Are you satisfied with me?" he asked, lowering his voice. "You have heard what took place yesterday, I suppose?"
"Yes, yes," she answered in a whisper; "that was very good;" and she quickened her pace.
"Then you are satisfied?"
Liza only made a sign of assent.
"Fedor Ivanovich," she began, presently, in a calm but feeble voice, "I wanted to ask you something. Do not come any more to our house. Go away soon. We may see each other by-and-by—some day or other—a year hence, perhaps. But now, do this for my sake. In God's name, I beseech you, do what I ask!"
"I am ready to obey you in every thing, Lizaveta Mikhailovna. But can it be that we must part thus? Is it possible that you will not say a single word to me?"
"Fedor Ivanovich, you are walking here by my side. But you are already so far, far away from me; and not only you, but—"