86
NIKOLAI M.
KARAMZIN
Poor Liza
87
never shone so brightly; and the flowers have never smelted
so pleasant!" The old woman, leaning on her crutch, went
out into the meadow to enjoy the morning Liza had described
in such delightful colors. Indeed, it did seem to her excep-
tionally pleasant; her dear daughter with her joyousness had
brightened all Nature for her. "Oh, Liza!" she said, "every-
thing of the Lord God's is so good! I have lived to threescore
years on this earth and I still cannot look upon the Lord's
works enough. I cannot see enough of the clear sky that
seems like a high tent, nor of the earth that every year is
covered with new grass and new flowers. The Heavenly King
must have loved man very much when He furnished this world
so well for him. Oh, Liza! Who would ever want to die, if
only there were a few times when we would have no grief?
. . . Obviously it has to be this way. Perhaps we would forget
our soul if tears were never to fall from our eyes." But Liza
thought, Oh! I would sooner forget my soul than ever forget
my dear friend!
After this, Erast and Liza, fearing lest they break their
word, saw each other every evening (after Liza's mother had
gone to bed) either on the bank of the river or in the birch
grove, but most often in the shade of the century-old oaks
(about a hundred and seventy yards from the cabin), oaks
that overshadowed the deep, clear pond that had been dug in
ancient times. There, through the green branches, the beams
of the silent moon oftentimes silvered Liza's light hair, which
was ruffled by the zephyrs and the hand of her dear friend;
often these beams caught in tender Liza's eyes a sparkling tear
of love, which a kiss from Erast never failed to dry. They
embraced—but chaste, shy Cynthia did not hide from them
behind a cloud; their embraces were pure and sinless. "When
you," Liza said to Erast, "when you tell me, 'I love you, my
friend,' when you clasp me to your heart and gaze at me with
your tender eyes, oh! then I feel so good, so good, that I
forget myself, forget everything, everything except—Erast. It's
a wonder, a wonder, my friend, that I could have lived
quietly and happily before I knew you! Right now I can't
understand it; now I think that without you life is not life,
but sorrow and boredom. Without your eyes the bright moon
is dark; without your voice the singing nightingale is tedious;
without your breath the breeze seems unpleasant." Erast was
carried away with his shepherdess—as he called Liza—and,
seeing how much she loved him, he seemed more amiable to
himself. All the sparkling amusements of high society ap-
peared worthless in comparison to those pleasures with which
the passionate friendship of a pure soul nourished his heart.
With revulsion he thought back to the despicable sensuousness
with which he had sated his feelings before. I shall live with
Liza as brother with sister, he thought; I shall never misuse
her love and I will always be happy! Foolish young man!
Do you know your own heart? Can you always answer for
your actions? Does reason always rule your emotions?
Liza demanded that Erast visit her mother often. "I love
her," she would say, "and I want what is good for her; it
seems to me that seeing you is a great blessing for anyone."
And in fact the old woman was always happy when she saw
him
v
She loved to talk with him about her late husband and
tell of the days of her youth: how she met her sweet Ivan for
the first time, how he fell in love with her, and how he lived
with her in such love and harmony. "Oh! We could never
gaze at each other enough—right up to the hour when cruel
death cut him down. He died in my arms!" Erast listened to
her with unfeigned pleasure. He bought Liza's work from her
and always wanted to pay ten times the price she asked. But
the old woman never took any extra.
Several weeks passed in this manner. One evening Erast
waited a long time for his Liza. Finally she arrived, but she
was so sad that he became frightened; her eyes were red
from tears. "Liza, Liza! What has happened to you?"—"Oh,
Erast! I have been weeping!"—-"Over what? What is it?"—
"I must tell you everything. They have found a husband for
me, the son of a rich peasant from the neighboring village;
Mother wants me to marry him."—"Are you willing?"—"You
cruel thing! Need you even ask? And I am sorry for Mother;
she weeps and says that I don't desire her peace of mind,
that death will torment her if I do not marry while she is still
alive. Oh! My mother doesn't know that I have such a dear
friend." Erast kissed Liza and said that her happiness was
dearer to him than anything in the world; that after her
mother's death he would take her into his home and he would
live with her never to part, in the country and in the thick
forests, as in paradise. "But you can never be my husband!"
said Liza with a quiet sigh. "Why not?"—"I am a peasant
girl."—"You insult me! Most important of all for your friend