"Yes."
"And I am going to the left. Good-bye."
* * * * *
On the following morning Lavretsky took his wife to Lavriki. She went in front in a carriage with Ada and Justine. He followed behind in a tarantass. During the whole time of the journey, the little girl never stirred from the carriage-window. Every thing astonished her: the peasant men and women, the cottages, the wells, the arches over the horses' necks, the little bells hanging from them, and the numbers of rooks. Justine shared her astonishment. Varvara Pavlovna kept laughing at their remarks and exclamations. She was in excellent spirits; she had had an explanation with her husband before leaving O.
"I understand your position," she had said to him; and, from the expression of her quick eyes, he could see that she did completely understand his position. "But you will do me at least this justice—you will allow that I am an easy person to live with. I shall not obtrude myself on you, or annoy you. I only wished to ensure Ada's future; I want nothing more."
"Yes, you have attained all your ends," said Lavretsky.
"There is only one thing I dream of now; to bury myself for ever in seclusion. But I shall always remember your kindness—"
"There! enough of that!" said he, trying to stop her.
"And I shall know how to respect your tranquillity and your independence," she continued, bringing her preconcerted speech to a close.
Lavretsky bowed low. Varvara understood that her husband silently thanked her.