"I suppose, Monsieur Lemm," said Maria Dmitrievna, "you have come to give Liza a music lesson."
"No; not Lizaveta Mikhailovna, but Elena Miknailovna."
"Oh, indeed! very good. Lenochka, go up-stairs with Monsieur Lemm."
The old man was about to follow the little girl, when Panshine stopped him.
"Don't go away when the lesson is over, Christopher Fedorovich," he said. "Lizaveta Mikhailovna and I are going to play a duet—one of Beethoven's sonatas."
The old man muttered something to himself, but Panshine continued in
German, pronouncing the words very badly—
"Lizaveta Mikhailovna has shown me the sacred cantata which you have dedicated to her—a very beautiful piece! I beg you will not suppose I am unable to appreciate serious music. Quite the reverse. It is sometimes tedious; but, on the other hand, it is extremely edifying."
The old man blushed to the ears, cast a side glance at Liza, and went hastily out of the room.
Maria Dmitrievna asked Panshine to repeat his romance; but he declared that he did not like to offend the ears of the scientific German, and proposed to Liza to begin Beethoven's sonata. On this, Maria Dmitrievna sighed, and, on her part, proposed a stroll in the garden to Gedeonovsky.
"I want to have a little more chat with you," she said, "about our poor Fedia, and to ask for your advice."