"How do you mean?"
"Mamma likes him," continued Liza. "He is good: I have no fault to find with him."
"But still you waver?"
"Yes—and, perhaps—you, your words are the cause of that. Do you remember what you said the day before yesterday? But all that is weakness—"
"Oh, my child!" suddenly exclaimed Lavretsky, and his voice trembled as he spoke, "don't be fatally wise—don't stigmatize as weakness the cry of your heart, unwilling to give itself away without love! Do not take upon yourself so fearful a responsibility towards that man, whom you do not love, and yet to whom you would be about to belong."
"I shall only be obeying; I shall be taking nothing upon myself," began Liza.
"Obey your own heart, then. It only will tell you the truth," said Lavretsky, interrupting her. "Wisdom, experience—all that is mere vanity and vexation. Do not deprive yourself of the best, the only real happiness upon earth."
"And do you speak in that way. Fedor Ivanovich? You married for love yourself—and were you happy?"
Lavretsky clasped his hands above his head.
"Ah! do not talk about me. You cannot form any idea of what a young, inexperienced, absurdly brought-up boy may imagine to be love. However, why should one calumniate one's self? I told you just now I had never known happiness. No! I have been happy."