the contemplation of his own unhappiness. O men! pitiful race, indeed!

... But, away with philosophical reflections.... I spent my days in
complete solitude, and could only by the most roundabout and even
humiliating methods find out what was passing in the Ozhogins'
household, and what the prince was doing. My man had made friends with
the cousin of the latter's coachman's wife. This acquaintance afforded
me some slight relief, and my man soon guessed, from my hints and
little presents, what he was to talk about to his master when he pulled
his boots off every evening. Sometimes I chanced to meet some one of
the Ozhogins' family, Bizmyonkov, or the prince in the street.... To
the prince and to Bizmyonkov I bowed, but I did not enter into
conversation with them. Liza I only saw three times: once, with her
mamma, in a fashionable shop; once, in an open carriage with her father
and mother and the prince; and once, in church. Of course, I was not
impudent enough to approach her, and only watched her from a distance.
In the shop she was very much preoccupied, but cheerful.... She was
ordering something for herself, and busily matching ribbons. Her mother
was gazing at her, with her hands folded on her lap, and her nose in
the air, smiling with that foolish and devoted smile which is only
permissible in adoring mothers. In the carriage with the prince, Liza
was ... I shall never forget that meeting! The old people were sitting
in the back seats of the carriage, the prince and Liza in the front.
She was paler than usual; on her cheek two patches of pink could just
be seen. She was half facing the prince; leaning on her straight right
arm (in the left hand she was holding a sunshade), with her little head
drooping languidly, she was looking straight into his face with her
expressive eyes. At that instant she surrendered herself utterly to
him, intrusted herself to him for ever. I had not time to get a good
look at his face--the carriage galloped by too quickly,--but I fancied