"Yes, every thing second-rate—poor goods, scamped work. But that pleases, and he pleases, and he is well content with that. Well, then, bravo!—But I am not angry. I and that cantata, we are both old fools! I feel a little ashamed, but it's no matter."
"Forgive me, Christopher Fedorovich!" urged Liza anew.
"It's no matter, no matter," he repeated a second time in Russian.
"You are a good girl.—Here is some one coming to pay you a visit.
Good-bye. You are a very good girl."
And Lemm made his way with hasty steps to the gate, through which there was passing a gentleman who was a stranger to him, dressed in a grey paletot and a broad straw hat. Politely saluting him (he bowed to every new face in O., and always turned away his head from his acquaintances in the street—such was the rule he had adopted), Lemm went past him, and disappeared behind the wall.
The stranger gazed at him as he retired with surprise, then looked at
Liza, and then went straight up to her.
VII.
"You won't remember me," he said, as he took off his hat, "but I recognized you, though it is seven years since I saw you last. You were a child then. I am Lavretsky. Is your mamma at home? Can I see her?"
"Mamma will be so glad," replied Liza. "She has heard of your arrival."
"Your name is Elizaveta, isn't it?" asked Lavretsky, as he mounted the steps leading up to the house.
"Yes."