"I--I--listen to me," whispered Lavretsky, and seizing her hand he led her to a seat. She followed him unresisting. Her pale face, her fixed eyes, and all her gestures expressed an unutterable bewilderment. Lavretsky stood before her. "I did not mean to come here," he began; "something brought me. I--I love you," he uttered, in involuntary terror. She tried to get up--she could not; she covered her face with her hands.
"Lisa!" murmured Lavretsky. "Lisa," he repeated, and fell at her feet. Her shoulders began to heave slightly.
"What is it?" he urged, and he heard a subdued sob. His heart stood still... he knew the meaning of those tears. "Can it be that you love me?" he whispered, and caressed her knees.
"Get up!" he heard her voice. "Get up, Fedor Ivanitch. What are we doing?"
He got up and sat beside her on the seat.
"It frightens me; what we are doing?" she repeated.
"I love you," he said again. "I am ready to devote my whole life to you."
She shuddered again as though something had stung her, and lifted her eyes towards heaven.
"All that is in God's hands," she said.
"But you love me, Lisa? We shall be happy."