vitch would dine at Prilútchino the very next day. In this manner an old and deeply rooted enmity seemed about to be brought to an end through the shyness of a short-tailed mare.
Lisa rushed out to meet Grigory Ivánovitch. "What does this mean, papa?" asked she in surprise: "what makes you lame? Where is your horse, and whose droshky is this?"
"That is what thou wilt never guess, my dear," replied Grigory Ivánovitch, and he then related to her what had occurred. Lisa could not believe her ears. Grigory Ivánovitch, without giving her time to recover from her surprise, informed her that both the Beréstoffs were to dine with them on the morrow.
"What are you saying!" exclaimed she, turning pale: "the Beréstoffs, father and son, dine with us to-morrow! No, papa, you may please yourself, but nothing will make me show myself."
"Art thou out of thy senses?" replied her father. "How long is it since thou hast become so shy? or dost thou nurse an hereditary hatred like a heroine of romance? Come, don't be silly."
"No, papa, nothing on earth, no treasure in the world, will persuade me to appear before the Beréstoffs!"
Grigory Ivánovitch shrugged his shoulders, and knowing that nothing was to be gained by contradicting her, ceased the discussion, and retired to rest after his eventful ride.
Lisavéta Grigorievna went into her own room, and called Nastia. They conferred long together on the ap-
