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NIKOLAI M. KARAMZIN
Poor Liza , -
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that he had found in Liza that which his heart had long
sought. Nature is calling me into its embrace, to its pure joys,
he thought, and he decided—at least for a while—to abandon
high society.
Let us return to Liza. Night had fallen—the mother blessed
her daughter and wished her sweet dreams; but this time her
wish was not fulfilled: Liza did not sleep well at all. The new
guest in her soul, Erast's image, was so vividly before her that
she awoke almost every minute, awoke and sighed. Even
before the rising of the sun Liza got up, went down to the
banks of the Moscow River, sat on the grass and, lapsing into
a despondent mood, gazed at the white mists that churned in
the air and, rising upward, left behind sparkling drops on
the green cloak of Nature. Silence reigned all about. But
soon the rising luminary of the day awakened all creations:
groves and hedges came to life; birds fluttered about and
began to sing; and the flowers raised their heads to drink in
the life-giving rays of light. But Liza kept sitting despondently.
Ah, Liza, Liza! What has happened to you? Up to this time,
awaking with the birds, you were gay along with them in the
morning, and your pure, joyous soul shone in your eyes, just
as the sun shines in the drops of heavenly dew; but now you
are lost in thought, and the universal joy of nature is foreign
to your heart. Meanwhile a young shepherd, playing his pipes,
was driving his flock along the banks of the river. Liza stared
at him and thought: If only the one who now occupies my
thoughts had been born a simple peasant, a shepherd, and if
only he were now driving his flock past me: oh! I would bow
to him with a smile and I would say to him pleasantly: "Hello,
my dear shepherd boy! Where are you driving your flock?
Here, too, the green grass grows for your sheep; and here the
crimson flowers blossom, from which one can plait a garland
for your hat." He would glance at me with a tender look—
perhaps he would take my hand. . . . A dream! The shepherd,
playing his pipes, passed by and with his variegated flock
vanished behind a near hill.
Suddenly Liza heard the sound of oars; she looked toward
the river and saw a boat, and in the boat—Erast.
Her heart began to beat faster, and not from fear, of course.
She stood up and wanted to go, but she could not. Erast
jumped out onto the bank, approached Liza, and—her dream
was partially fulfilled; for he looked at her tenderly and took
her hand. . . . But Liza, Liza stood with her eyes cast down,
with flaming cheeks, and with a fluttering heart—she could
not take her hand away from him—she could not turn away
when he came close to her with his rosy lips. . . . Oh! he
kissed her, kissed her with such ardor that the whole universe
seemed to her to be blazing on fire! "Dear Liza!" said Erast.
"Dear Liza! I love you!" And these words resounded in the
depths of her soul, like heavenly, exquisite music; she scarcely
dared believe her ears and . . . But I must put down my
brush. I will say only that at this moment of ecstasy Liza's
shyness disappeared-7-£rast learned that he was loved, loved
passionately by a new, pure, and open heart.
They sat on the grass, and in such a way that not much
space remained between them—they looked into each other's
eyes, said to each other: Love me! and two hours seemed to
them only an instant. Finally Liza remembered that her
mother might worry about her. They had to part, 'Oh, Erast!"
she said, "will you love me always?"—"Always, dear Liza,
always!" he answered. "And can you swear to this for me?"—
"I can, dearest Liza, I can!"—"No! I don't need an oath. I
believe you, Erast, I do. Could you ever deceive poor Liza?
Would this not be impossible?"—"Impossible, impossible,
dear Liza!"—"How happy I am! And how Mother will be
overjoyed when she learns that you love me!"—"Oh, no, Liza!
There's no need to tell her anything."—"But why?"—"Old
people are often suspicious. She would imagine something
bad."—"That could never happen."-—"Nonetheless, I ask you
not to say a word to her about this."—"All right; I must obey
you, although I would rather not keep anything from her."
They took leave of each other, kissed for the last time, and
promised to meet every evening, either on the bank of the
river or in the birch grove, or somewhere near Liza's cabin;
only, they had to see each other without fail. Liza left, but
her eyes turned back a hundred times to Erast, who remained
standing on the bank, watching after her.
Liza returned to the cabin in a completely different mood
from that in which she had left. A heartfelt joy manifested
itself on her face and in all her movements. He loves me! she
thought, and was carried away by the idea. "Oh, Mother
dear!" Liza said to her mother who had just awakened. "Oh,
Mother! What a beautiful morning! Everything is so gay in
the fields! The skylarks have never sung so well; the sun has