He imagined also that the change in Lisa was the result of her inward conflicts, her doubts as to what answer to give Panshin.
One day she brought him a book, a novel of Walter Scott's, which she had herself asked him for.
"Have you read it ?" he said.
"No; I can't bring myself to read just now," she answered, and was about to go away.
"Stop a minute, it is so long since I have been alone with you.

You seem to be afraid of me." "Yes." "Why so, pray ?" "I don't know." Lavretsky was silent.
"Tell me," he began, "you haven't yet decided ?" "What do you mean ?" she said, not raising her eyes.
"You understand me." Lisa flushed crimson all at once.
"Don't ask me about anything!" she broke out hotly.

"I know nothing; I don't know myself." And instantly she was gone.
The following day Lavretsky arrived at the Kalitins' after dinner and found there all the preparations for an evening service.

In the corner of the dining-room on a square table covered with a clean cloth were already arranged, leaning up against the wall, the small holy pictures in old frames, set with tarnished jewels.

The old servant in a grey coat and shoes was moving noiselessly and without haste all about the room; he set two wax-candles in the slim candlesticks before the holy pictures, crossed himself, bowed, and slowly went out.