“I want first … where are those murdered people?”
“Ah! What next? That was what I was afraid of. … No, we’d better leave those wretched creatures alone; it’s no use your looking at them.”
“I know where they are. I know that house.”
“Well? What if you do know it? Come; it’s raining, and there’s a fog. (A nice job this sacred duty I’ve taken upon myself.) Listen, Lizaveta Nikolaevna! It’s one of two alternatives. Either you come with me in the droshky—in that case wait here, and don’t take another step, for if we go another twenty steps we must be seen by Mavriky Nikolaevitch.”
“Mavriky Nikolaevitch! Where? Where?”
“Well, if you want to go with him, I’ll take you a little farther, if you like, and show you where he sits, but I don’t care to go up to him just now. No, thank you.”
“He is waiting for me. Good God!” she suddenly stopped, and a flush of colour flooded her face.
“Oh! Come now. If he is an unconventional man! You know, Lizaveta Nikolaevna, it’s none of my business. I am a complete outsider, and you know that yourself. But, still, I wish you well. … If your ‘fairy boat’ has failed you, if it has turned out to be nothing more than a rotten old hulk, only fit to be chopped up …”
“Ah! That’s fine, that’s lovely,” cried Liza.
“Lovely, and yet your tears are falling. You must have spirit. You must be as good as a man in every way. In our age, when woman. … Foo, hang it,” Pyotr Stepanovitch was on the point of spitting. “And the chief point is that there is nothing to regret. It may all turn out for the best. Mavriky Nikolaevitch is a man. … In fact, he is a man of feeling though not talkative, but that’s a good thing, too, as long as he has no conventional notions, of course. …”
“Lovely, lovely!” Liza laughed hysterically.
“Well, hang it all … Lizaveta Nikolaevna,” said Pyotr Stepanovitch suddenly piqued. “I am simply here on your account. … It’s nothing to me. … I helped you yesterday when you wanted it yourself. Today … well, you can see Mavriky Nikolaevitch from here; there he’s sitting; he doesn’t see us. I say, Lizaveta Nikolaevna, have you ever read Polenka Saxe?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s the name of a novel, Polenka Saxe. I read it when I was a student. … In it a very wealthy official of some sort, Saxe, arrested his wife at a summer villa for infidelity. … But, hang it; it’s no consequence! You’ll see, Mavriky Nikolaevitch will make you an offer before you get home. He doesn’t see us yet.”
“Ach! Don’t let him see us!” Liza cried suddenly, like a mad creature. “Come away, come away! To the woods, to the fields!”
And she ran back.
“Lizaveta Nikolaevna, this is such cowardice,” cried Pyotr Stepanovitch, running after her. “And why don’t you want him to see you? On the contrary, you must look him straight in the face, with pride. … If it’s some feeling about that … some maidenly … that’s such a prejudice, so out of date … But where are you going? Where are you going? Ech! she is running! Better go back to Stavrogin’s and take my droshky. … Where are you going? That’s the way to the fields! There! She’s fallen down! …”
He stopped. Liza was flying along like a bird, not conscious where she was going, and Pyotr Stepanovitch was already fifty paces behind her. She stumbled over a mound of earth and fell down. At the same moment there was the sound of a terrible shout from behind. It came from Mavriky Nikolaevitch, who had seen her flight and her fall, and was running to her across the field. In a flash Pyotr Stepanovitch had retired into Stavrogin’s gateway to make haste and get into his droshky.
Mavriky Nikolaevitch was already standing in terrible alarm by Liza, who had risen to her feet; he was bending over her and holding her hands in both of his. All the incredible surroundings of this meeting overwhelmed him, and tears were rolling down his cheeks. He saw the woman for whom he had such reverent devotion running madly across the fields, at such an hour, in such weather, with nothing over her dress, the gay dress she wore the day before now crumpled and muddy from her fall. … He could not utter a word; he took off his greatcoat, and with trembling hands put it round her shoulders. Suddenly he uttered a cry, feeling that she had pressed her lips to his hand.
“Liza,” he cried, “I am no good for anything, but don’t drive me away from you!”
“Oh, no! Let us make haste away from here. Don’t leave me!” and, seizing his hand, she drew him after her. “Mavriky Nikolaevitch,” she suddenly dropped her voice timidly, “I kept a bold face there all the time, but now I am afraid of death. I shall die soon, very soon, but I am afraid, I am afraid to die. …” she whispered, pressing his hand tight.
“Oh, if there were someone,” he looked round in despair. “Some passerby! You will get your feet wet, you … will lose your reason!”
“It’s all right; it’s all right,” she tried to reassure him. “That’s right. I am not so frightened with you. Hold my hand, lead me. … Where are we going now? Home? No! I want first to see the people who have been murdered. His wife has been murdered they say, and he says he killed her himself. But that’s not true, is it? I want to see for myself those three who’ve been killed … on my account … it’s because of them his love for me has grown cold since last night. … I shall see and find out everything. Make haste, make haste, I know the house … there’s a fire there. … Mavriky Nikolaevitch, my dear one,
