rievna laughed, at first, as she watched him, and then went off to
bed; as she said, Beethoven was too agitating for her nerves. At
midnight, Lavretzky escorted Lemm to his lodgings, and sat with him
until three o'clock in the morning. Lemm talked a great deal; his bent
shoulders straightened up, his eyes opened widely and sparkled; his very
hair stood upright above his brow. It was such a very long time since any
one had taken an interest in him, but Lavretzky evidently did take an
interest, and interrogated him solicitously and attentively. This touched
the old man; he ended by showing his visitor his music, he even played
and sang to him, with his ghost of a voice, several selections from his
compositions,--among others, the whole of Schiller's ballad "Fridolin,"
which he had set to music. Lavretzky lauded it, made him repeat portions
of it, and invited him to visit him for a few days. Lemm, who was
escorting him to the street, immediately accepted, and shook his hand
warmly; but when he was left alone, in the cool, damp air of the day
which was just beginning to dawn, he glanced around him, screwed up his
eyes, writhed, and went softly to his tiny chamber, like a guilty
creature: "Ich bin wohl nicht klug" (I'm not in my right mind),--he
muttered, as he lay down on his hard, short bed. He tried to assert that
he was ill when, a few days later, Lavretzky came for him in a calash;
but Feodor Ivanitch went to him, in his room, and persuaded him. The
circumstance which operated most powerfully of all on Lemm was, that
Lavretzky had ordered a piano to be sent to his country-house from the
town: a piano for his--Lemm's--use. Together they went to the Kalitins',
and spent the evening, but not so agreeably as on the former occasion.
Panshin was there, had a great deal to narrate about his journey, and
very amusingly mimicked and illustrated in action the country squires he
had seen; Lavretzky laughed, but Lemm did not emerge from his corner,
maintained silence, quietly quivered all over like a spider, looked glum
and dull, and grew animated only when Lavretzky began to take his leave.
Even when he was seated in the calash, the old man continued to be shy
and to fidget; but the quiet, warm air, the light breeze, the delicate
shadows, the perfume of the grass, of the birch buds, the peaceful gleam
of the starry, moonless heaven, the energetic hoof-beats and snorting of
the horses, all the charms of the road, of spring, of night,-