"You!" she said. "You here!"
"I—I—Come and hear what I have to say," whispered Lavretsky; and then, taking her hand, he led her to the bench.
She followed him without a word; but her pale face, her fixed look, and all her movements, testified her unutterable astonishment. Lavretsky made her sit down on the bench, and remained standing in front of her.
"I did not think of coming here," he began. "I was led here—I—I—I love you," he ended by saying, feeling very nervous in spite of himself.
Liza slowly looked up at him. It seemed as if it had not been till that moment that she understood where she was, and what was happening to her. She would have risen, but she could not. Then she hid her face in her hands.
"Liza!" exclaimed Lavretsky; "Liza!" he repeated, and knelt down at her feet.
A slight shudder ran over her shoulders; she pressed the fingers of her white hands closer to her face.
"What is it?" said Lavretsky. Then he heard a low sound of sobbing, and his heart sank within him. He understood the meaning of those tears.
"Can it be that you love me?" he whispered, with a caressing gesture of the hand.
"Stand up, stand up, Fedor Ivanovich," she at last succeeded in saying. "What are we doing?"