The next morning Lavretsky and his guest drank their tea in the garden, under an old lime-tree.
"Maestro," said Lavretsky, among other things, "you will soon have to compose a festal cantata."
"On what occasion?"
"Why, on that of Mr. Panshine's marriage with Liza. Didn't you observe what attention he paid her yesterday? All goes smoothly with them evidently."
"That will never be!" exclaimed Lemm.
"Why?"
"Because it's impossible. However," he added after pausing awhile, "in this world everything is possible. Especially in this country of yours—in Russia."
"Let us leave Russia out of the question for the present. But what do you see objectionable in that marriage?"
"Every thing is objectionable—every thing. Lizaveta Mikhailovna is a serious, true-hearted girl, with lofty sentiments. But he—he is, to describe him by one word, a dil-le-tante"
"But doesn't she love him?"