an to
stare along the road.

The stars had already begun to pale, and the sky was grey, when the
calash rolled up to the porch of the little house at Vasilievskoe.
Lavretzky conducted his guest to the chamber which had been assigned to
him, returned to his study, and sat down by the window. In the park, a
nightingale was singing its last lay before the dawn. Lavretzky
remembered that a nightingale had been singing in the Kalitins' garden
also; he recalled, too, the tranquil movement of Liza's eyes when, at the
first sounds of it, they had turned toward the dark window. He began to
think of her, and his heart grew calm within him. "Pure little star,"--he
said to himself, in a low tone:--"pure stars,"--he added, with a smile,
and calmly lay down to sleep.

But Lemm sat, for a long time, on his bed, with a book of music-paper on
his knees. It seemed as though a strange, sweet melody were about to
visit him: he was already burning and growing agitated, he already felt
the lassitude and sweetness of its approach ... but it did not come.

"I am not a poet, and not a musician!"--he whispered at last....

And his weary head sank back heavily on the pillow.

XXIII

On the following morning, host and guest drank tea in the garden, under
an ancient linden-tree.

"Maestro!"--said Lavretzky, among other things:--"you will soon have to
compose a triumphal cantata."

"On what occasion?"

"On the occasion of the marriage of Mr. Panshin to Liza. Did you notice
how he was paying court to her last evening? It seems as though
everything were going smoothly with them."

"That shall not be!" exclaimed Lemm.

"Why not?"

"Because it is impossible. However,"--he added, after a pause:--"everything
is possible in this world. Especially here, with you, in Russia."

"Let us leave Russia out of the question for the present; but what evil
do you see in that marriage?"

"All is evil, all. Lizaveta Mikhailovna is an upright, serious maiden,
with exalted sentiments,--but he ... he is a di-let-tante, in one word."

"But surely she loves him?"

Lemm rose from the bench.

"No, she does not love him, that is to say, she is very pure in heart,
and does not know herself what 'love' means. Madam von Kalitin tells
her, that he is a nice young man, and she listens to Madam von Kalitin,
because she is still a perfect child, although she is nineteen years of
age: she says her prayers in the morning,