t. A long, long
time ago, his one friend and admirer, also a German and also poor, had
published two of Lemm's sonatas at his own expense--the whole edition
remained on the shelves of the music-shops; they disappeared without
a trace, as though they had been thrown into a river by night. At last
Lemm had renounced everything; the years too did their work; his mind
had grown hard and stiff, as his fingers had stiffened. He lived alone
in a little cottage not far from the Kalitin's house, with an old cook
he had taken out of the poorhouse (he had never married). He took long
walks, and read the Bible and the Protestant version of the Psalms, and
Shakespeare in Schlegel's translation. He had composed nothing for
a long time; but apparently, Lisa, his best pupil, had been able to
inspire him; he had written for her the cantata to which Panshin had!
made allusion. The words of this cantata he had borrowed from his
collection of hymns. He had added a few verses of his own. It was sung
by two choruses--a chorus of the happy and a chorus of the unhappy. The
two were brought into harmony at the end, and sang together, "Merciful
God, have pity on us sinners, and deliver us from all evil thoughts and
earthly hopes." On the title-page was the inscription, most carefully
written and even illuminated, "Only the righteous are justified. A
religious cantata. Composed and dedicated to Miss Elisaveta Kalitin,
his dear pupil, by her teacher, C. T. G. Lemm." The words, "Only the
righteous are justified" and "Elisaveta Kalitin," were encircled by
rays. Below was written: "For you alone, fur Sie allein." This was why
Lemm had grown red, and looked reproachfully at Lisa; he was deeply
wounded when Panshin spoke of his cantata before him.

Chapter VI

Panshin, who was playing bass, struck the first chords of the sonata
loudly and decisively, but Lisa did not begin her part. He stopped and
looked at her. Lisa's eyes were fixed directly on him, and expressed
displeasure. There was no smile on her lips, her whole face looked stern
and even mournful.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Why did you not keep your word?" she said. "I showed you Christopher
Fedoritch's cantata on the express condition that you said nothing about
it to him?"

"I beg your pardon, Lisaveta Mihalovna, the words slipped out unawares."

"You have hurt his feelings and mine too. Now he will not trust even
me."

"How could I help it, Lisaveta Mihalovna? Ever sinc