Liza shuddered.
"Do not speak so any more. What use is your freedom to you? You should not be thinking of that now, but of forgiveness—"
"I forgave her long ago," interrupted Lavretsky, with an impatient gesture.
"No, I don't mean that," answered Liza, reddening; "you have not understood me properly. It is you who ought to strive to get pardoned."
"Who is there to pardon me?"
"Who? Why God. Who can pardon us except God?"
Lavretsky grasped her hand.
"Ah! Lizaveta Mikhailovna!" he exclaimed, "believe me, I have already been punished enough—I have already expiated all, believe me."
"You cannot tell that," said Liza, in a low voice. "You forget. It was not long ago that you and I were talking, and you were not willing to forgive her."
Both of them walked along the alley for a time in silence.