But if one, on the one hand, could think of nothing more enchanting than the girl, glowing with happy, tender young life, on the other hand, one could hardly imagine anything more touching and noble than Lensky in the hours passed with his little daughter.
If he now, as soon as his nature was aroused, lost all restraint, and then the worst part of him showed itself rougher, and less vaguely than formerly--rougher than could be understood in a civilized man--on the other hand, as long as the evil in him slept, he showed himself nobler, more blameless than formerly in his best moments.
What had formerly been united in him was now separated. Nikolai, who frequently accompanied him to the Avenue Wagram, observed him in astonishment.
This was not the same man who in the evening, greedily eating, and with cynical, twinkling eyes, sat between some pair of hysterical enthusiasts, to whom he permitted himself to say all that was coarse and familiar--the man with the hard, joyless laugh, the two-sided wit, the shameless scorn of men, and especially women.
No; the Lensky who in the morning took his pretty little daughter in his arms, was a pale, somewhat weary and sad man, a man with a hoarse but soft and rather low voice, a man who spoke little, but listened pleasantly, who was always ready to interest himself in the most foolish childishness.
After lunch he usually remained an hour or so, and played with Mascha. Even his art he involuntarily changed for love of her. The wild fire with which he enslaved his concert audiences was perhaps lacking, but how tender, how delicate, how noble, became his playing if he felt the gaze of the child's eyes filled with tears and enthusiasm resting upon him.
She might accompany him! Ah! how proud she was if he called out a hearty word of praise to her in the midst of his playing! And there was no lack of opportunity to applaud her.
Frequently he let her play to him alone on the piano, listened to her with the greatest patience, yes, with true pleasure. He made little conscientious corrections, mingled with jests--really troubled himself seriously with her instruction.
Nikolai, as child and youth, had in vain tormented himself musically, only at length to separate à l'aimable from the piano, the violin, and the 'cello. Mascha, on the contrary, was incredibly talented in music. What others attained by weary study, she had inherited. The flexibility of her wrists, the smoothness of her touch, were something at which Lensky could not cease to marvel.
How they rejoiced in each other, father and child!